An Unexpected Allez...

There are many different ways to recognize fellow cyclists when they are out of uniform, or not spinning by out on the road. Sometimes these marks are obvious - teeshirts with singular logos or notable quips, the forward slouch of a cycling cap, tattoos denoting membership in a particular tribe or just a general two-wheel affiliation, the shape and clean surface of a pair of legs. Other things are less obvious - a wistful look as you pass them on a street corner, their eyes betraying a wish to switch places, a certain swagger to their walk as they approach your group during a regroup stop. My ride home from work once was interrupted by a group in an auto approaching from the other direction; the honking and loud voices compelled me to mutter under my breath "oh great, now what. Idiots." As they came closer I realized their tones were not mocking. In fact, what I first thought was loud mocking was in reality loud encouragement. I might as well have been climbing a col in the Alps, the road lined with fans, yelling my name, waving flags, ringing cow bells.

artwork as seen here

Today I was doing a shorter loop close to home (in this heat, 10:00 starts don't leave room for anything longer). I had been passing people all morning, riders out for one last Saturday before next weekend's Tour de Foothills ride, and was heading towards Bonelli Park. As I was running down a decline with a little speed built up, a loud hog approached an intersection on a little cross street up ahead to my right. There was no traffic other than myself, and I saw the rider getting ready for a California stop. But then he made one more check to his left, saw me, gave a full squeeze to the levers, and put his foot down. I should have known something was different by the look of the rider and his machine; the metal was sleek and gleaming, the rider was slim. Clearly there was no keg-belly challenging the integrity of the material at the front of his shirt. But it was what he yelled out as I passed in front of him that convinced me that he was comfortable on more than one kind of two-wheeled steed. "Allez, allez, allez!" said it all.