About halfway through my ride today, I looked back and saw this guy trailing me by about 100 yards. I didn’t think anything of him until I looked back again a bit later and saw that he wasn’t gaining on me. He wasn’t falling behind either, but he wasn’t catching up. That was strange, I thought. Usually, the serious cyclists have no trouble passing me, but he wasn’t closing the gap.

I love showing up the hardcore cyclists, the ones with the expensive bikes and all the gear. Pacing or passing them on my single-speed, beat-to-shit beach cruiser. I especially love passing them going uphill when I’m riding barefoot.

This guy wasn’t one of the Lycra-wearing assholes that drivers aim for. I see him almost every time I ride. He’s serious, but not in an obnoxious way. He caught up to me at the end of my ride. As he got to the end of the bike path, he was panting and shaking out his presumably numb hands. As I passed him when I turned around to head back, he said, “Good pace.” I could tell he was thinking about trading in his bike for a beach cruiser.