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.
146 words about 65 miles and common courtesy
146 words about 65 miles and common courtesy
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.