The cold temperatures inhibit all but the hardiest (some would chose other adjectives) bicyclists from going out on the road. On Sunday we had just finished breakfast at Hood's and were off to run errands when I saw a lean bicyclist, wearing non-flashy togs, ahead of us on Route 82 near the elementary school.
"Hey, maybe that's my brother," I commented idly.
Sure enough, it was! Almost every square inch of him was covered, but I saw enough of his face to recognize him (after all, I've known him all his life).
I smiled and waved and got a smile and nod in return.
He later said he always keeps an eye out for my vehicle whenever he is on one of his long, hard-core weekend rides.
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