It is hard to meet people when you ride. 

Everyone is trying to get their best ride in, in the time they have. 

No time to stop. 

Not time to talk. 

I get it. 

I do it. 

But every so often you do meet someone. 

Waiting for a ship to come out of a lock. 

Waiting for a train that seems to have no end. 

Or just at a time and place that works. 

I have met a select few this way. 

Great people. 

Women and men. 

Crème de la crème. 

With each one of them, we have taken our new friendship off the bike and met for coffee, lunches, my place, their place, dinners. 

Their riding capabilities, style, history, warmth, humour are in a league all its own. 

The highest caliber. 

I am lucky and honoured they are in my life. 

There is one guy from this ‘group,’ that I often see. 

But I am heading in, he is heading out. 

We usually stop for a quick chat. 

I cherish our conversations. 

But lots of times, I lift a finger or nod my head and ride by fast. 

Like I barely know him. 

I cannot stop. 

I do not stop. 

I do not like when I do it. 

But I must. 

You see? 

There is a story going on. 

A story that has been going on for a while. 

One he is not aware of. 

The only one aware of it is me and the person behind me or the person ahead of me. 

They are the plot in a rather long story. 

I am trying to catch them. 

They are trying to catch me. 

I need the climax. 

I need to bring the story to a close. 

Preferably with a happy ending. 

I always text him when I get home and tell him, 

‘Sorry, just riding my story.’ 

Insert bookmark emoji here. 

‘There is Another Way to Ride’