146 words about 65 miles and common courtesy

I’d just come up Cemetery Hill, of all places, and was on the brief flat before the road kicked up again. I heard a siren blip behind me, in the middle distance. I kept riding. I heard it again, closer, and turned to look: Two motorcycle officers escorting a funeral procession. I pulled onto the shoulder and took off my helmet, watching as the cars passed, headlights on. It was just a common courtesy, but maybe it gives one of those 30 or 40 drivers pause the next time a cyclist delays them momentarily. It’s why I wave to kids who wave to me, speak to runners and walkers, and say thank you when a driver yields the right of way. Common courtesy is a pretty easy way for riders to start making friends. And too many of us are doing a great job making enemies.