I took my car in to the shop today. I talked to the guy about what I needed done and then I started taking my bike out of the trunk so I could ride back to Boston. I was expecting to have to explain that 18 miles back to my house isn't really that hard of a ride, even in November, since OMG BIKE TRANSPORTATION is so extreme to most of America.
"Do you ride cross?" he says.
It is not every day that random people are able to tell that I am on a cyclocross bike, and not some touring road bike with fat tires. Even less often do they know it's called "cross."
"Yeah," I said, "...you know cross?"
"I used to race when I was a junior," he says.
"I was fourth at nationals in Leicester the day Tim Johnson won."
Apparently he also went to Worlds at some point (probably that year, although I was too awed to get the details from that) and raced a Superprestige while he was over there.
So in addition to knowing about a thousand times more than I do about cars, he has also been a better cross racer than I will ever be.
That's pretty cool.
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