Dropped off #1 son at the ballpark for umping duties. Pull out behind an older guy on a small motorcycle. Honda? No earthly idea. He was in a bright red Phillies pullover jacket, sneakers, slacks and when he turned carefully out of the driveway onto the street, his feet sort of tapped the ground in a light running motion like he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to pick them up and take off. I thought perhaps he was taking someone else's bike out for a spin?
So, I'm following him...following him...slowly toward home. He's putt-puttering up the street, getting a little thrillride at approximately 24 miles per hour. He turns deliberately onto main street, I turn too and see a black figure coming our way in the oncoming lane. Black leather jacket, black helmet, black pants, black cycle - er, Hog. He was c.o.o.l, indisputably. The puttering guy in front of me came face to face with cool guy as they passed and he daringly let go with his left hand, the bike slightly swerving a tad as he did, and gave a rather cool wave (if I do say so) to the Dude on the Hog.
It was about to be a precious moment and I watched with interest. I was close enough to the hog dude to see his face now and - ready for this? - he decidedly glanced slightly to his right and totally dissed Phillies jacket Honda dude! Didn't even flinch! Didn't even give him a tiny eyebrow-raise-'hey.' Nothing! He was just C, double O, L - cool. Everybody knew it. And the other guy up ahead, painstakingly accomplishing a right hand turn with his 1978 helmet on straight and both hands firmly replanted on the handlebars of his two-wheeler - wasn't.
Got it? It's the way of the world. Deal with it, dude.