San Francisco Chronicles

There’s a certain electricity to riding in San Francisco. The city’s hills, fog, and hidden lanes have a rhythm all their own—part challenge, part delight, and part pure, unfiltered inspiration.

For us, it’s the right stage to see what happens when meticulous craft meets raw rider culture. Makers and riders in the same place, centered around the bike.

Day One: Rolling Into the City

We kicked things off with the kind of ride that sets the tone for a weekend: anticipation, excitement, and the quiet confidence that comes from knowing your bike is exactly where it should be.

Ryan and I set out under clear skies, moving through the city’s shifting terrain—from the sweep of the Golden Gate Bridge to the forested climbs of the Presidio. The route carried us past the Legion of Honor before dropping toward the coast, where a closed stretch of highway gave way to uninterrupted miles along the water.

Golden Gate Park and the JFK promenade shifted the pace again. Slower. More playful. The kind of riding where the city reveals itself in smaller moments.

By the time we rolled into PAS Normal Studios’ Haight-Ashbury shop, the day had already done its work. City, coast, and movement stitched together into something cohesive.

PAS Open House: Bikes, Community, and Counter-Culture Cool

That evening, we joined PAS for their open house. The space filled gradually, then all at once. Drinks moved through the room. Conversations stacked. The energy built into something dense and alive.

We brought a few bikes with us. The MADE Show build with Campagnolo Super Record. Sophia Hu’s matcha RM3. Ryan’s Supernaut. Matt Wiebe’s 1x RM3.

Each one held attention for different reasons. Paint, proportion, detail. You could see people stop mid-conversation, take a step closer, look again.

What made the night feel specific to San Francisco was the mix of people. Clients, friends, and local voices all overlapping. Madeline Puckett, founder of Wine Folly, was there, moving easily between conversations. The shop became a shared space for cycling, design, and culture to intersect without needing to explain itself.

Later, Matt took us to dinner at Stoa. Small plates, strong cocktails, loud music. A different kind of design, but the same underlying idea: intention carried through every detail.

Saturday Group Ride: Marin’s Classic Lines

Saturday shifted back to riding. Matt mapped a route through Marin that balanced familiarity with demand.

We started simple. Donuts from Bob’s on Baker. Coffee. Maurten. Then straight into the ride with a group of forty.

Across the bridge. Through Sausalito. Out to Marin Service Course. Twenty miles in just over an hour before the road tilted upward.

Mount Tam did what it always does. Long, steady pressure. The kind of climb that asks for focus more than force. The descents answered back—fast, controlled, and precise.

We regrouped at Alpine Dam before pushing further and dropping toward Stinson Beach. Cold air off the water, legs starting to feel the accumulation, but the group holding together.

By the time we made our way back into the city, the ride had settled into memory. Shared effort. Clean lines. The kind of day that doesn’t need to be explained.

Sunday Salida: A Different Pace

Sunday slowed things down.

Matt led us out for a Salida—something closer to a Girona-style loop where the city becomes part of the ride itself. We climbed toward Twin Peaks, legs still carrying the weight of the previous day.

At the top, the city opened up. Fog moving across the skyline. Roads still quiet.

We dropped back toward the ocean, light rain starting to settle into the pavement. The pace eased. The ride became less about output and more about presence.

At the café stop, everything paused. Coffee, conversation, a moment to take stock of the weekend.

The return through JFK and back to the PAS shop felt complete. Not in a final sense, but in a way that made the whole weekend coherent.

The Takeaway

San Francisco delivered what it always does. Terrain, culture, and a certain kind of energy that’s hard to replicate anywhere else.

What stayed with us wasn’t any single ride or moment. It was the overlap. Craft and use. Design and experience. The people who build meeting the people who ride, and the clarity that comes from seeing both in the same place.

Bikes aren’t just objects in that context. They become a way of connecting everything else.

We left already thinking about the next time back.