Great story Biker395 (yours too qcpmsame). Since I started commuting about a year and a half ago, I usually ride home along the same section of a MUP. A couple of times a week there was an older guy with long silver hair in a pony tail sitting on a park bench close to my exit. As I (or others) would ride by, he'd ring a cowbell at us and shout something unintelligible. The whole summer last year went by and there were very few weeks when I didn't see him. I must admit I didn't give him a whole lot of thought. Then the weather turned colder and soon, he no longer was there. Again, I didn't think too much about him.

Then one day this past spring, I was riding home, and there he was again, ringing his cowbell at me. I actually was thrilled to see him; I didn't realize how much I missed his presence. This time I tried to listen - he was actually shouting words of encouragement. I rang my little bell back at him. The more I saw him, the more details I noticed. One day when I got off work early, I kept going past my normal turnoff, and this old guy with long hair came flying by me in the opposite direction - it was "Cowbell Guy", and he was flying. He wasn't just some old guy sitting on a bench - he was a cyclist, taking a break. Now whenever I see him I wave, and shout words of encouragement. One of these days I need to stop and have a chat with him - I'd love to know his story. Unfortunately, chatting up people I don't know well (even people I do know) is not my strong suit. If my Dad was around, he'd have his life story in no time, but I'm like my Mom - a little more reserved.