445 am. Last morning ride of the week. 30 something degrees Fahrenheit. Trying not to over exert myself as I seemed to have picked up a virus and am really tired of coughing seizures. Riding on the Meredith Trail along the Raccoon River when I spot a bicyclist underneath the 7th St bridge. He had his bike leaning against the bridge supports a few yards away from the trail. Never seen this one before. One thing one does when commuting the same circuit at the same time day after day is recognize the other trail users. At any moment I was expecting to see Joe Ayers on some refitted classic roadie and the bright headlamp as his only illumination but I saw this guy first.
He was messing around with the bike of his back pack. A black bike with no discernible branding decals on it. A few reflective strips of tape and no lights. Probably a homeless person or a newly "forced to bike" person, dead car or OWI. Poverty victim. Perhaps a fisherman but it's a little cold for that activity. I see them occasionally here. I see them all. And bridges are popular overnights for the homeless. Perhaps he hit Thirsty Thursday a little too hard and had to take a nap.
I pass and look on. Up ahead there are two headlights next to the trail at the old depot now home of a disaster service and TopBun food truck. Police? No. Perhaps they are here to pick up the cyclist I just saw. Roll on, coffee awaits.
A minute later I hear a voice. Sounded like someone in his 20s, jubilant and happy before the an extra 20 years cripples him with the weight of the world and cynicism. For a moment I thought it was one of Jay Pontier's twins, Alex or Nathan. Drama and theater kids now well into adulthood. No, someone else.
"What brings you out so early in the morning?"
My reply was short, "Gotta go to work."
"Oh the old grind. Have a nice day." And he pulls ahead. I should have said more but then again I was ill.
Wonderful attitude he had. I wish all cyclist were this friendly. I see people with thousands of dollars worth of bikes and gear who won't say hello or dim their bright lights when encountered. Lost in their own world. But this guy's bike was a real piece of work. Basic late 80s or early 90s hybrid without lights or markings. The rear derailleur was gone so the chain was shortened to make a single speed wrapped around the 12T or 13T of a rusty freewheel or cassette. But damn, he made it work! When he got in front of me and my bright lights I saw how he survived in the dark. His backpack was completely covered with reflective tape. A 12" by 12" square of silver/white reflectivity. Brilliant! Literally. My lights still lit that backpack up 1/2 mile away. Just proves my opinion that it is better to be seen from behind than to be seen from the front. You can avoid what is ahead of you but not what is behind.
I was hoping to see Joe and wonder if this guy asked him why he was riding this early. Joe would say "I ride 20 miles every day at this time. I'm retired." Maybe another day....
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