Ever since a day in the mid '70s when my father, driving home from town, passed me also heading home on my bike, about five miles away. Apparently he was impressed with the speed at which I arrived after him, because he's laughingly called me Rapid Robert since then. As a young man in Northeastern Iowa in the early '30s, he knew the famous baseball pitcher of that name. Despite his hatred of essentially all things sports related, his use of that name as a greeting for me to this day is a real treat every time I hear it.