This weekend I passed an older guy on a beautiful European steel something-or-other with old-tymey clips, old-tymey cycling shoes, wool Campy jersey, old-school cycling cap, no helmet. Everything was in pristine condition. Just the sound of his bike was lovely. As I passed him, I said "How's it going?" He said nothing.

Good thing I wasn't on a bike with fenders or he would've openly sneered. Or, maybe he did, and my underdeveloped sense of taste made it so that I couldn't fathom the subtlety of his non-response. Elitists rule!