If there are no other bicyclists with me when I ride my bicycle, I am never alone. I ride a route to Flatwoods Park outside Tampa that includes people who live along the circuit who I see every day.
They are part of my ride.
There's the guy at the furniture retoration shop on 40th Street who yells out "Hi-yo silver!" when I pass.
There are the waves and smiles of the lawn care guys edging the sidewalk on McKinley outside Busch Gardens.
And there's the friendly toot of the horn by The Grizz -- a county Flatwoods park worker -- when he he sees me pedaling Morris Bridge Road.