A Birmingham story that has nothing to do with race

But for the bike, Demetrious and I probably would have never met. Even though we went to high schools 12 miles apart, at about the same time. Even though he grew up in the same neighborhood where my grandmother lived. And where my great-grandfather preached, at a church near his high school.

We grew up 40 years ago in Birmingham. And it would be really tempting and easy to make this about how bikes bridged a racial gap, in Birmingham, of all places. But it’s bigger than that.

Most of the people I ride with don’t know each other from work or anywhere else. Cycling bridges gaps. It creates a big new circle in your life’s Venn diagram. It gives you a richer set of friends — in the truest sense of rich.

Race is irrelevant to it. Even in Birmingham, where maybe it’s what we turn to too quickly.