A smile, a wave ... and a motor

Cyclists seem to be a naturally friendly sort of people. There's always a wave, a smile, a "hey, how are ya?" when you come upon another rider — unless, of course, that rider is heading up a mini-Mt. Washington, huffing, puffing, sweating and swearing, while you're zooming down at 30 mph.

So, is it just me or does everyone have this kind of reaction when another bike appears on the horizon: I right myself on my bike (instead of slumping over because of the pain), make sure my pedal stroke is strong and smooth, and immediately get my breathing under control so my chest doesn't look like it's ballooning in and out like a cartoon character.

It's like being back in junior high and making sure every hair is perfectly in place when the group of popular girls is walking down the hall. For Googlesake!

What is this all about anyway? I mean, I'm riding because I enjoy it (most days), because I want to be fit (and be able to eat Doritos) and because I don't want to die on the Trek. Am I really trying to impress people who are getting a five-second look at me as they zip by?

Apparently so, and it can't be helped.

The other day, I pulled myself together as I was about to encounter a male rider heading in the opposite direction on Rte. 25 in Westbrook. I sat up straighter, loosened my white knuckle grip on the handlebars and started pedaling faster. He smiled and waved as he went on by ... but his legs weren't moving at all. Then I realized there was a noise much like a lawnmower makes coming from his "bike."

A motor! Can you believe it! And he was smiling and nodding as if he was just like me.

Friendly? Sure. But somehow I feel offended.