Barn storming

It’s the first time I've been out on the bike for a couple of weeks now.  My dicky ticker seems to have forgiven me for forgetting to re-order my heart medication.  

I’m on the first hill of what’s known as ‘the four hills challenge’ and I can see a MAMIL approaching in my rear mirror.

He pulls alongside and slows down;

“well look at you!”
“wow - “that’s amazing!”

I glance sideways - not a MAMIL - younger - early 30s?

“you’re really flying up here”

I frown - I usually get negative comments - “cheating” - because my bike has a motor.  And the occasional wave. But not this sort of positive enthusiasm.

I explain that this the only way I can ride a bike these days. He nods;

“my dad’s the same.  I think it’s great”.

We chat a little longer and then he’s off.  I hang onto his wheel as long as I can, but the motor cuts out at 15mph and there’s no way I can haul this tank up a long hill under my own steam.

I stop at the top - ostensibly to get a blip - but really to get my breath back. And to take stock.  I’m really lucky to still be able to do this.