Grand Rapids, MI

“How often do you do this?”
“Daily. Every single day. Wait, what do you mean?”
“I mean. This. We just met, ten minutes ago. You walk out of a lobby, rush us into hotel rooms, schedule us reservations, climb into the back seat and now we’re across town at a restaurant,” he’s leaning over the table towards me, his hand resting over his amber ale and speaking low.
“True.”
“So, regularly then?”

There was a time when this sort of thing would have mortified me. In fact, when I first started at a bike shop, it was hard enough approaching someone my own age, let alone telling them everything I know about bicycles and convincing them that they should invest money in my knowledge.

More on this later.