I Can’t Act My Age
Yesterday, while on a twenty-one mile ride on my new Cannondale racing bike, I came up next to another rider who waved and asked me if I had seen his friend behind us on the trail. The guy was on a titanium bike made by a specialty framebuilder called “Seven.” The bicycle was absolutely clean and fitted with the best components possible. The rider, behind his sunglasses and under his helmet, had a well worn, weathered face, and shocks of thick, white hair.
“No, you’re the first rider I’ve seen since the trailhead,” I replied.
“Ahh shit,I’m going to have to slow down and wait for Don again,” he said, “I wish he would not have to stop and piss in the trees every five minutes.”
“I’ve watered a few trees on this path, too,” I said.
“Yeah, but since Don turned eighty-five, it’s like every ride he’s in the trees more than on his bicycle,” he continued, “I’m going to stop and wait for him.”
“Eighty-five!” I said, “Man, I just want to be around at that age, let alone riding a bike.”
“Me too,” he said, “But I’ve got four more years to go.”
I smiled waved and rode away, feeling like a fifty-six year old teenager!
