I was driving down Johns Road on Thursday night to pick up my daughter from her friend’s house when I saw a guy pedaling north on what looked like an entry-level mountain bike.
He was moving fairly slow and looked like a recreational rider on an evening cruise. His slacks and collared shirt certainly weren’t designed for performance on a bike. His stem rose at a steep angle so he could sit up straight and comfortable, which was the perfect position for him to ride with one hand as he held two fingers to his lips and pulled a good long drag off his cigarette.
And he was wearing a helmet.
A helmet. While smoking a cigarette.