My son came home from college this weekend and I ate too much, just because I do things like that with family.

So this afternoon, after my son headed back to college, I realized I needed a ride to burn off some calories and generally get my head on straight.

On the downhill from a traffic circle, a geared Mountain Biker on a mega-buck bike and the best of lycra passed me and disappeared into the distance.

Nice bike and expensive clothes, I thought.

A little later I came to the hill from Hell, which both my 13 year-old son and my 19 year-old son hate, and, as I started up the hill I saw the mega-buck Mountain Biker ahead of me.

Without trying to do so, I saw myself steadily gaining on him.

I realized I couldn't go any slower on this hill, with only one gear and needing to maintain an efficient cadence, and so I continued to gain on him.

He heard me coming from behind, mostly because I had become one big lung sucking the universe in and out, and, as he looked over his shoulder at me he couldn't conceal his surprise.

It surprised me, too, since I hadn't tried to catch him, but couldn't avoid it because of cadence.

Ha!

Fun.

So, on the way back home I had to go up the OTHER hill from Hell; this one much easier in grade, but about five times as long.

I like this hill because I can just barely stay in the saddle if I totally focus on my spin.

About half way up the hill, ahead, I saw a Mexican day-laborer on a yellow rattle-can-painted Department Store Mountain Bike, platform pedals and all.
He had a lunch box strapped on back, I don't know quite how or to what; and wore a tattered corduroy jacket, no helmet or hat, and bargain store running-shoes.

Again, as before with the mega-bucks Mountain Bike, I steadily gained on him, without trying, because I couldn't go any slower.

As I passed him and said hello, he gave me the friendliest, sweetest smile imaginable.

I went on ahead.

And then, a few minutes later, I saw him coming up on me, on my right.
He had a look of gleeful determination and excitement on his face.

I maintained my pace: as fast as I could go in the saddle on this hill.

He pumped furiously, eyes and mouth wide-open, as if he couldn't believe his speed going up hill, ecstatic at his unexpected performance.

He passed me and pulled ahead until exhaustion overcame him, and then he returned to his "pre-race" pace.

I slowly but surely caught up to him and passed him.

He again gave me that amazingly sweet friendly and forgiving smile, and for that one brief moment we bonded in the brotherhood of STREET RACERS.