Saturday early evening, laid-back atmosphere with plenty of room between cyclists. I am pushing my granny bike, finding myself habitually overtaking another cyclist, when I realise I have reached the perfect speed. I don’t want to slow down, I don’t want to ride faster, everything is perfect right there, but this man is right next to me, and now it is almost like we are in the same room. He looks over at me, and say: “it’s the perfect speed”. I agree with him, the breeze created by this perfect speed, is intoxicating.
We ride silently, side by side in a sort of understanding, for one block, and then I tell him I am going to make a turn at the next corner. While we are cycling, he stretches out his hand to shake a hello-and-goodbye, say "it's been cosy" wish me a nice day and a happy Easter and continue in his perfect pace.