0 comment Tuesday, May 13, 2014 | admin
One of my favorite things to do at night is get on my bike and rip out a bunch of miles around central Denver, when there's far less traffic (both bikes and cars) and the city's a little more peaceful.
Usually, one of the loops I include is through a dark Washington Park, around the road there, where there are very few people left at about 9:30 or 10:00 and you can pretty much take the whole loop at track speed. On the way back to my house, I usually forgo the official bike route (the sidewalk on Downing between Bayaud and 1st Avenue), check to see if any cars are coming, and put it in the big ring and ride as fast as I can down the hill in the right traffic lane.
So I was doing just that last night about 10:30 and I came up on a guy on a cruiser bike, rolling down Downing. I was not going nearly as fast as usual, and I had a hell of a time catching the guy. And he was hardly pedaling. I look over and he's got a bundle of newspapers or takeout food or something lashed onto his handlebar basket, looking as serious as a physics professor, clear black-frame glasses and a helmet.
So we both hit the red light at the bottom of the hill, at 1st Avenue, and I try to make a little conversation.
"That's a pretty fun hill, huh?" I say.
"What?"
"That's a pretty fun hill."
"Yeah." No smile, no nothing. Stares straight ahead.
Sometimes the joy of cycling isn't as obvious to everyone, I guess.
Usually, one of the loops I include is through a dark Washington Park, around the road there, where there are very few people left at about 9:30 or 10:00 and you can pretty much take the whole loop at track speed. On the way back to my house, I usually forgo the official bike route (the sidewalk on Downing between Bayaud and 1st Avenue), check to see if any cars are coming, and put it in the big ring and ride as fast as I can down the hill in the right traffic lane.
So I was doing just that last night about 10:30 and I came up on a guy on a cruiser bike, rolling down Downing. I was not going nearly as fast as usual, and I had a hell of a time catching the guy. And he was hardly pedaling. I look over and he's got a bundle of newspapers or takeout food or something lashed onto his handlebar basket, looking as serious as a physics professor, clear black-frame glasses and a helmet.
So we both hit the red light at the bottom of the hill, at 1st Avenue, and I try to make a little conversation.
"That's a pretty fun hill, huh?" I say.
"What?"
"That's a pretty fun hill."
"Yeah." No smile, no nothing. Stares straight ahead.
Sometimes the joy of cycling isn't as obvious to everyone, I guess.
Labels: Fun