Prelude
A couple weeks after the Montauk Century I rode up to Nyack on a Sunday. Instead of turning right around and heading back, which has been my routine this year, I decided to stop and get something to eat. I went straight to the Korean-run delicatessen I've visited in past years, called the "Hello Deli," and bought a sandwich and water. I ate my lunch in park that faces the Hudson River. As I was ready to leave two fellow cyclists entered the park. It was Ron and Jeffrey, my hooligan companions of the Montauk Century! They chorused, "I don't believe this," and that it must be Kismet. I found it hilarious and hung out with them as they ate. Then the three of us rode back to Manhattan. Jeffrey has my phone number and they promised to call me about riding together the next weekend.
Under a tree in that park in Nyack, as Ron and Jeffrey finished their lunch, we got into a discussion of helmets. Ron didn't have one—won't ride with one. He used to race motorcycles and would always wear a helmet on a motorcycle, but on bicycles a helmet doesn't seem necessary to him and interferes with his enjoyment of cycling. I made many persuasive arguments for the use of helmets and told of the two times I've crashed, had my head hit the pavement and the helmet saved me from a trip to the hospital. Ron was not swayed a bit. Jeffrey chuckled in the background, encouraged me on but also stated that it would go nowhere, for Ron has heard it all before. This furthers my impression that these guys are lunatics, and I'm curious about the fate that has brought us together. To what purpose?