So we’re hanging out with friends in Naperville, a suburb in Chicago, in couple weekends ago.
The neighborhood cyclists have arranged a bike ride – off road. We’d been forwarned so had brought our gear including bike shoes.
Our friend’s garage is filled with bikes but not enough with SPD pedals so we wander down the road in the twilight of warm evening with crickets chirping to the neighbor’s house.
This is no ordinary neighbor. Tom Weil is the reigning (and two time) USA Cycling Masters Road National Champion (Men’s 65-69). His garage is like a cycling candy store. Beautiful wheels hanging from the ceiling, gleaming bikes tucked here and there.
Bert brought my shoes along and he was holding them as Tom looked through his cabinets filled with bike pieces and parts. Not finding the pedals he looks up and asks who’s shoes these are. Me.
He looks over at me, then at his nice mountain bike, then says “Why don’t you just take the bike?” Ah sure, the beautiful titanium bike. Well, ok. Tom deduces that anyone with nice Sidi shoes is a serious cyclist and can be entrusted with his bike. I’m tickled pink.
Tom’s son Tim comes out to escape post-dinner dish-washing duty and helps his dad tune up the bike. Seat goes down a few inches, chain gets oiled, tires pumped. I’m thoroughly spoiled.
The bike was a dream to ride. I use the term off-road loosely as the route was really crushed limestone paths that wander for miles through forests and cornfields. Ah, so much space in Illinois.