Of all the stories I’ve done, this is the one that still gets to me on the trail. Really? Other day I’m riding this corridor in Boulder with a tall fence on one side, a concrete wall on the other, so: no exits. It goes about . . . three quarters of a mile. I’m cruising along, no hands, when I suddenly feel not alone. I sneak a look behind. Sure enough, there’s a guy on an older bike, a bag tied to it, and he’s the kind of close that says I looked back right when …
Published on August 12, 2018 08:09