“Ho Courtney!” belts from behind me, breaking my concentration as I cycle through The Panhandle.
Slightly startled, I glance over my left shoulder to comprehend the racket, but it’s too late.
A flash of blue and white spandex painted onto a young, fit cyclist zips past me. My eyes finally catch up to his as he peers over his right shoulder and, with an adrenal-fueled grin curling up face, says, “I gotta get me one of those!” Within seconds he’s gone, disappearing into the park.
He was referring to my name plate on the back of my bike.
This city makes me smile every day.