continued to pass me. First the sub-2:30 marathoners, then the sub-3:00 group, and so on. Little by little they all caught up to me, until I was running with those who hoped to finish in the sub-4:00 range. I began to feel more at home with these runners
of their own. Before I knew it, the saddlebags were packed, the motorbike was tuned, and, early last summer, I hit the road.The plan was to ride from Nashville, Tennessee, to Washington DC, to Portland, Oregon, to San Diego, California, and then back
There we were. Two middle-aged men in a Firebird on a summer night. The top was down, the V8 was rumbling. We were just driving around, minding our own business.And there he was. A 20-something young man in a four-cylinder sports saloon with loud
