It’s tough being a celebrity sometimes. You can’t just walk down the street, or in my case, ride down the road, without the paparazzi clamoring for a picture or adoring fans looking for a selfie (is it really a “selfie” if there are other people in it?) with you.
Sir Paul knows what I’m talking about. Tom Hanks, Harrison Ford, too.
My editor (I love saying “my editor.” Makes me feel professional.) sent me a copy of an e-mail wherein the writer, I’ll call him “William” (because that’s his name) recounted a story of local Loomis (redundant) residents Rick and Dan going out of their way to help him bicyclically just before Christmas. I’m not sure how it came up, but Rick reads this blather “faithfully,” which I am sure had something to do with his willingness to help a brother out. Although it begs the question: Hey, Dan, do you read this column, too? How ‘bout you, William?
As you (now) eight loyal readers can imagine, this is not the first time my celebrity has surfaced in the real world. Not less than 10 years ago, I had ridden to the Gold Hill Cemetery, coincidently on Gold Hill Road, just to look at it. There, I met a similarly-aged couple, the man of which averred he enjoyed watching cyclists traverse Gold Hill. When I mentioned (modestly) that I wrote “Life in the Bike Lane,” he stated they both enjoyed reading it every week.
Whoa, slow down, fans. Let’s not get over-enthusiastic. Boundaries. […]
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