Among other commuters on my route was a financier who always stopped to pick up coins in the street. I think he was usually ahead of me. Looking ahead to elections, Milosevic sets the stage Now, in a period of retirement, I seize on any excuse to get on my bike. Picking up a pizza. Delivering a check to the cable-TV company.
Eternal vigilance is the price of, etc.
Fortunately, I was wearing a helmet, something I had done without during my first 20 years in the saddle. Now, tots in bike back seats lurk under helmets as big as they are. I didn't ride in the winter until the Boston blizzard of 1978, when another stodgy cyclist showed how he could get through partly plowed streets closed to auto traffic. One spring, an unexpected torrent loosened my brakes as I was approaching a college campus, and I slid to a halt behind a parked car. I looked away when I saw the couple inside were necking, as we used to say.