Halfway into my ride this evening I came upon a new road outside of town. The surface looked so smooth and shiny from the rain that had just quit, so I had to ride it, though it was a bit of a climb. Sure enough, I felt like I was floating up toward the top of the hill, watching the spray of water come off of my front tire.

I was feeling better by the second, but as I came around a bend the paved part of the road ended. I stopped, got off my road bike, and stared at the crushed rock and packed dirt surface separating me from the top of the hill. I looked to my left and saw a whitetail deer watching me, as if ready to ask, "Well, are you going to keep cimbing or not?"

I clipped back into the pedals and left the blacktop. The unfinished section of road was just firm enough to hold my 23mm tires, and I climbed the rest of the hill with a big dumb grin on my face. Who knew that dirt and rock could feel even better than fresh, wet pavement? For some reason or another I was having one of those moments that makes you never want to stop riding. A moment where you forget how many calories you're burning, you forget which grouppo is better than which, you forget about upgrading to Carbon or Titanium. I was riding just to ride, the way we all did when we were kids with department store bikes and baseball cards in our spokes.

What if I told you there was even a rainbow in the eastern sky when I reached the top? Would you believe me?

If you were a cyclist you would.