I ride an old steel frame, and I'm pretty old myself (70), so I spend my cruising time (48x20 on flat roads) enjoying the fresh air of the Atlantic Ocean and the thought, as I ride, of having seen my racing days gone by. These days, no numb hands, no numb feet, no numb nether region of the body -- just breathing the air that moves the fronds of palm trees. Doubtless this point of view seems overly tame to guys succumbing to the red mist. But what can be done with decreased heart rate and a spaghetti-like frame (relative to modern frames)? I see young guys cranking away on their ultra-stiff specialissima frames, and I bid them adieu: I was them 40 years ago. It's a relief to recognize that the racing phase of life is over.