Look Ma! No Hands!

Although I am currently in between bicycles at the moment (and have been for some months), I consider myself a cyclist. At least, I am a casual one. I don't compete in any races, I don't have all the nice gear and apparel that shows off my skinny arms. Not to mention my price range spans from "So I hear you're getting rid of your bike," to "What's the best deal on Craigslist?" I enjoy riding though. For two years, cycling was my primary form of transportation. You notice a lot of things that you don't when you drive. You do your part to respect the environment, and you have the pleasure of showing up everywhere drenched in sweat.

Every now and then I run into another cyclist. You wave. They wave. There's a camaraderie present, even though you're strangers. This doesn't work when driving. I tried it. You roll down your window at the stop light and wave. They look at you all of sudden insecure about sharing the road with someone who waves at strangers. Why is that person waving at me? "Do you need directions? Perhaps to the hospital?"

Cyclists are an interesting group of people. We're like the hobbits of the road. We're a minority. Others see us as lowly interferences that make their journeys difficult. We can often pass by unseen by most cars (especially those that don't know what a bike lane is). The difference is that we hide our big hairy feet.