I’m minding my own business (I’m always minding my own business) while riding my biweekly “Tour de Neighborhood” when I spot a fellow cyclist a couple of blocks over. I continued my route. Suddenly the same biker pops out of an alley at full speed and nearly collides with me. I weave around him and stop at the next light. After eyeballing me from the opposite side of the road he rides over. He pulls up and says “Hey, wanna’ race?” This guy was dressed in street clothes, backpack, and was riding one of those ubiquitous full suspension mountain bikes. I’m think this is one of those sucker bets. He probably waits around for Mr. Fancy Pants biker (me) to ride by so he can blow my wheels off. I politely refuse. He says “Are you sure, that looks like a fast bike.” Trying to appeal to my vanity doesn’t work. I refuse again. The light changes and I take off. I know I shouldn’t worry about him, but I ride a little harder just to make sure he doesn’t pass me (you know turning it up to “400 watts” and all). I turn off the road and never see him again. I kept think that was odd but at least he asked.