One of the great unresolved questions in mathematics was the Four Color Theorem. To wit:

The four color theorem, or the four color map theorem, states that no more than four colors are required to color the regions of any map so that no two adjacent regions have the same color. Adjacent means that two regions share a common boundary of non-zero length (i.e., not merely a corner where three or more regions meet).

Simple enough to understand, not so simple to prove. The 5 color version was proven in the 1800’s. But when I started studying mathematics in 1974, the Four Color Theorem still had not been proven. That changed in 1976 when two mathematicians came up with a computer aided proof. That proof was so long and complicated that no human could review it, so there was some controversy about whether the theorem had, in fact, been proven true. Since previous attempts at proof had fallen short, the NY Times did not publish news of the proof for some time, not wanting to get taken in by false information. Would they had done the same with the Steele dossier.

One way to deal with a theorem that is proving difficult to prove is to come up with a counter example. If you do then the theorem is shown false and you can stop looking for a proof. To do this you try to create a map that cannot be drawn using only 4 colors. Over the years several such maps were proposed, but all of them were faulty. But give Governor Newsom and the California State Legislature credit; they are trying.

This map is what the State Legislature came up with in their effort to become even more blue. Currently there are 43 Democrat congresspeople from California, and 9 Republicans. The new maps seek to rearrange things so the numbers move to 48-4, or at worst 47-5.

I decided to look at what the Governor has in mind for Brumby Road. A three year old on a sugar rush could draw smoother shapes:

That little green dot is Casa Brumby. We live about 7 miles from Lodi, but that is a different district. We live about 6 miles from Linden, but that is yet another district. We are in the same district as most of Tracy, but almost none of Stockton, which is much closer. Manteca and Ripon are in our district, but so are Antioch and Pittsburg, which are East Bay (Blue) MUD.

I described these convoluted maps to Stoker, and she asked the hypothetical “Do they think we are stupid?” No, they don’t. They think we are powerless. This is a one party state with supermajorities on all sides, so they can do whatever they want.

However, they do have to put this question on the ballot in a special election (cost $250 million). I’d like to think there are enough fair minded people out there to turn this shameless proposal down, but I’m not optimistic. Paint by number…

Back in 2008, my Congressman was Jerry McNerney. He lived in Pleasanton.

Let that sink in for a moment. Pleasanton is about 50 miles from Brumby Road, and in a completely different universe. Pleasanton is dot.coms and lattes and consciousness raising seminars. Brumby Road is orchards and sprayers and taco trucks during cherry season.

But somehow the California State Legislature managed to put a small sliver of eastern San Joaquin county into the Bay Area for purposes of diluting Republican votes and maximizing the number of Democrat congresspeople representing the Golden State.

Those California Congressional District lines from 2008 look like a 3 year old on a sugar high went bonkers with a set of crayons. And they made about as much sense.

The process was so crazy that in 2008 a ballot proposition created an independent commission to draw lines, but conveniently exempted congressional districts from their authority. That changed in 2010:

In 2010, physicist and political reformer Charles Munger Jr. helped lead the successful campaign for Proposition 20, the Voters First Act for Congress, adding congressional districts to the CCRC’s responsibilities.

This commission was set up to be bipartisan and non-political, sort of. There are provisions for equal representation of the two major parties, and spots for others not affiliated with either. And there are rules which, if followed, would bring a little sanity to setting district boundaries.

As an independent, citizen commission, commissioners are prohibited from an extensive list of political positions and activities for ten years before applying and five to ten years after selection.

Under California Law, the State Legislature now has no authority to draw congressional districts. Texas Law in not California Law. Thus we have a new war between the states brewing.

Republican legislators in Texas are trying to use their legal authority to redraw districts and gain seats. Texas Democrat legislators don’t have the votes to stop them, so they decamped to Illinois to deny the Republicans a quorum. They were welcomed with open arms by Illinois Governor Pritzker, who knows a little something about gerrymandering himself. Take a look…

Illinois has 14 Democrat congresspersons and 3 Republicans. In a state where 44% of the voters chose Trump. Well done, Governor!

Here in California, Governor Newsom has vowed to fight back. He wants the legislature to claw back the 5 seats Texas is trying to flip. Except the legislature lacks the authority to do so.

But the Governor has a plan. First get the legislature to pass an amendment to the California constitution suspending the CCRC’s authority to draw the maps until after the 2030 election cycle. This needs a 2/3 vote in the California statehouse, which is no problem in this bluest of blue states.

But that is not enough. A vote of the people is required, and the next statewide election isn’t until 2026. So Newsom wants to call a special election to pass what will probably be called the “Voter Fairness and Diversity Act” which will promise to do everything from eliminating fossil fuels to completing the bullet train, with reparations and free trans surgeries thrown in.

The cost of this election is estimated at $250 million, which is enough to complete about 500 meters of bullet train track. Well worth the price to put Texas in its place.

My Facebook profile only has a single word in my bio. That word is ‘Married’. Obviously the most important piece of information about me and the most important person in my life for over 45 years.

Oh yes, there is one other piece of data I shared. When I opened my FB account, I used my actual birthday. So FB can remind my friends that they can write happy birthday greetings to me. Nothing wrong with this, of course.

But now FB has gone beyond mere “have a special day’ wishes. Look at what appeared in my notifications:

The idea is that I will create a fundraiser and my friends will supplement their birthday good wishes with some cash. Not for me of course; that would be gauche. But rather for a cause near and dear to me.

Facebook is supposed to be good at using algorithms to predict what my likes and dislikes are, so as to get more ‘likes’ and keep me on their site as long as possible. So FB should know that I would NEVER ask people to make donations in honor of my birthday. Perhaps Stoker will provide a little something to brighten the day, like a peck on the cheek or a glass of vodka or a take out pizza. But the rest of you can keep your wallets in your pockets.

And Facebook’s AI needs a reset. 3 of the 4 charity suggestions are good ones, and if I were setting up a solicitation, which I’m not, I would be happy to see them get some help. But the first suggestion left me dumbfounded. NPR?

The Facebook AI must never have looked at my blog. Even a casual perusal would reveal that, as a charity I support, NPR is right down there with the DNC or BLM or CNN, which has become a de facto non-profit badly in need of aid.

I can’t imagine what the AI was ‘thinking’. True, I am grateful NPR exists. I have gotten some wonderful material from them. Remember “Thinness as a byproduct of white supremacy”? So any readers who support NPR (there may be one or two) please continue to send them money. But not because I’m turning 69!

Bringing your bike with you on a plane trip is not simple. First you need to acquire a bike box or case. Then you have to partially disassemble the bike. Remove the wheels, pedals and saddle and seatpost. Take off the face plate so you can wrap the handlebar around the frame. Try to get everything into the case and secure so that the less than careful baggage handlers won’t damage your precious machine.

Different airlines have different policies regarding oversized items. I’m most familiar with Air France. You need to reserve space for a bike before the trip, and you cannot do this on line, you have to call and spend some time playing computer solitaire while on hold. The agent puts in a request, and you are supposed to see the result with your reservation in a couple of days. In practice this doesn’t happen and I’ve had to call several times to actually get confirmation that the bike was good to go.

More fun awaits at the airport. When you check in, you have to pay for the bike. On AF, if the case/bike combo is under 50 lbs. it costs $150, but if it goes over it’s $225. Since my hard case weighs 30 lbs. that doesn’t leave much leeway for shoes or a helmet. You sometimes have to pay at the check in desk but then take your bike to an oversized luggage portal for check in and screening. If the stars are really aligned against you, a security person will want to open the case and completely undo your careful packing while you watch from behind a rope barrier. This happened to me once. The initial scan was suspicious, perhaps because some of the tubeless sealant residue resembled a bomb making chemical. A supervisor was called in and they prodded and pawed some more and finally declared it safe to load, but they had trouble getting everything back in and buttoned up. I begged to be allowed to jump the rope and help, and they finally relented and I was able to get things ready to fly.

When you get to your destination, you have to hope your bike followed you. If the connection is tight because a flight left late, it might not. I have written before about how my Tarmac and I went to Europe on completely different tours and were not reunited until I had been back home for 10 days. If it has arrived you will need to find the oversized baggage delivery area, which may not be close to where your regular checked bags pop onto the belt.

Give all this, it really is easier to rent, which is what I have done on all my post covid Europe trips. Some of the rentals have been ok, one was a disaster. That was an emergency last minute rental after AF sent the Tarmac AWOL, so I suppose I was lucky to have any bike at all.

On my most recent trip, I had the pleasure of riding a Scott Addict. I really liked the bike from my first ride. Sure, it was quite a bit heavier than the Tarmac, and even a bit more beefy than my 18 lb. Sampson. And while the frame was the right size it had a longer stem than I’m used to, so I had to push the saddle forward which put me in a different position over the crank.

But the bike was comfortable, with wide 32 mm tires. Wide tires on road bikes are the rage now, with lower pressures and a larger contact patch. My old bikes have frames designed for 25 mm tires at the max; anything larger rubs against the frame.

The Scott also had disc brakes and electronic shifting. The shifting I can do without; mechanical shifters and derailleurs work just fine and you don’t have to worry about the bike going all Tesla on you and losing your gears to a dead battery. But I have to admit that the disc brakes are quite an improvement, especially on long descents. Your hands don’t get tired from pulling on the levers and you don’t have to worry about the rims overheating and causing a blowout. Again, my older bikes were not designed for discs so I’m going to have to stick with rim brakes.

On top of Mont Aigoual: Downhill PR’s to follow.

The most amazing thing about the Scott was how it went downhill. I have well deserved reputation as a slow and timid rider when the road points down. But I found myself going much faster and staying close to people who normally leave me way behind when descending. Strava agrees: I set a couple of downhill PR’s, including Mont Ventoux from Bedouin, which I’ve done on 6 occasions. A couple of times I arrived at the bottom just behind my friend Kent, who normally leaves me way behind going down. My friend Jack even noticed that I was going down a lot quicker, and he has been waiting for me at the bottom for 20 years.

Downhill PR’s: Still slow but not as slow.

Wider tires and disc brakes are not in my cycling future at home unless I break down and buy a new bike. I doubt I will do that. But I don’t have any hesitation about renting the modern stuff when I travel. I think both the Tarmac and the Sampson have seen the inside of a bike box for the last time.

The 6th ride of 44 5’s HRC 7 day tour through the Cevennes mountains in France is supposed to be an easy day. Sandwiched between a 71 mile loop with 6200 feet climbing Mont Aigoual and the ‘Queen Stage’ of 72 miles over 4 cols with 6,800 feet of up, this day is almost a rest day.

The route was supposed to be 37 miles with about 3,100 feet to climb. The ride began with a long, long descent from la Garde Guerin all the way down to a river at the bottom of a canyon. From here the climbing starts and would take us to the village of La Bastide where we would stop for coffee. At the bottom we could see the towers of La Garde Guerin where we started far, far above us. The climb back looked impossibly hard, but I had ridden the route four times before and I remembered that it was a long climb but not steep, except for about a 1/2 mile at the bottom. The rest was only 4 to 6% with some really nice views.

The planned route did not go as planned:

The Road Not Taken: We planned to take the right fork but the France version of CalTrans had other ideas

The ‘”Route Barrée” signs made our guides scramble, using their phones and cycling apps like Ride With GPS to see if there was an alternate road that would get us to La Bastide. There weren’t a lot of options other than the deviation suggested by the arrow where the pavement was torn up. Gerry and John decided to direct us up the deviation, telling us that the distance was about the same, but there might be a little more climbing. It turned out to be quite a bit more…

Our Guides in Action: Gerry is pointing up. And up it was: a really steep up

We turned onto the alternate road, and right away I can see that this is much steeper than the route we planned. For the first two miles I saw mostly 8-9% with occasional pitches of 10-11%. For the last mile things got serious:

Strava Data and a sign for motorists heading down. But we were climbing!

It turns out that the deviation was a Strava segment of almost 3 miles averaging 9.1%. But the last 1000 meters were much steeper. My Garmin was stuck on 11-12%, then broke out on the upside and reached a maximum of 16%. That is steeper than anything on our two week trip, including Mont Ventoux.

We all made it to the summit without walking. Here is Jeri, tired but triumphant.

When we finally make it to La Bastide for café crème we all agreed that this 3 mile ramp was probably not the best way to prepare for the 4 cols the next day. While our van was waiting for us a French rider got to the top and stopped to talk to our guide. He said that this was the steepest road in the area, that he had failed to make it his last time, and he was back to beat it. I’m glad I made it the first time but once was plenty.

So if you are riding in France and you see a Route Barrée sign, brace yourself and hope your legs are good. You might need them.

The former FBI Director must have plenty of time on his hands. He is enjoying walking on the beach and posting on Instagram. Last week he did both…

The sentiment is obvious, even though Comey feigned ignorance and took down the post. He received a visit from the Secret Service, and I suspect the matter will end with that. I really would expect that someone adept at giving interviews and answering questions before Congress without actually saying anything would be a little more cautious about what he uploads. Didn’t the FBI invent the phrase “We neither confirm nor deny that ‘x’ is a person of interest in the case”? You can’t get more opaque than that.

The sentiment is not unique to beaches. On a recent club ride we were talking about the new American Pope, and one rider suggested that he would be happier to see white smoke coming out of the White House. Kind of clever but a clear indication that it was time for me to keep my mouth shut.

So there are a lot of folks out there who want to ‘8647’. in one way or another. A couple have tried the direct approach. Some Democrats are waving around articles of impeachment. Again.

After wondering how someone smart enough to lead the FBI could be so careless on social media, I started to look at ‘8647’ in a different light. Specifically in prime-al colors.

For some reason I am attracted to prime numbers. A prime number is an integer that has only itself and 1 as divisors. I started to wonder about 8647. It is an odd number, and since 2 is the only even prime number, that means it is possibly prime. Next I added up the digits 8,6,4 and 7. The sum is 25, which is not divisible by three. You may not know this, or care, but a quick way to know if any integer is divisible by 3 is to add the digits and if that sum is divisible by 3, so is the number. Examples:

1597. Digits add to 22. Not divisible by 3

9543. Digits add to 21. Divisible by 3, i.e. 9543 = 3 * 3181

I checked all the prime numbers from 1 to 93, and 8647 isn’t divisible by any of them. I only needed to go as high as 93 because the square root of 8647 is 92.98.

So not only is 8647 a political message containing a hint of menace, but a pretty prime as well. If this blog bored you, ’86’ it!

We form a key structuring element of White heteropatriarchal supremacy.” 

I was a little bit worried that the results of the last election would reduce the material available for my clever social commentary. My fears were unfounded. First, from an interview on NPR, paid for at least in part by my income tax dollars:

Most of the people I hang around with are cyclists, and we all complain that we need to lose a few pounds. Of course none of us does. On the rare occasions when I venture into a movie theater I am stunned by how many very large people there are, taking their seats armed with popcorn and sodas and candy to keep them from starving over the next two hours. And many of them are Caucasian, so I guess they missed the Supremacy Memo.

And for my readers with offspring attending college, look where your tuition money is going:

Professor Bethany Letiecq wrote in the Journal of Marriage and Family about her theory “that marriage fundamentalism, like structural racism, is a key structuring element of White heteropatriarchal supremacy.”

I’m not going to guess the appropriate pronouns, so I’ll just say the Letiecq is a professor at George Mason University, located in northern Virginia and close to DC. The school is named for one of the founding fathers of the United States of America. Ever since DEI we all know this country was founded on structural racism, but I had no idea that marriage fundamentalism was a culprit too.

It is really kind of amazing that the University retains its name. Mason was a Virginia land holder who owned slaves. When Professor Letiecq solves the marriage fundamentalism issue, she can proceed to the University Name Change Committee.

I love the expression “white heteropatriarchal supremacy.” I’m not sure what it means, so I actually went to the Journal of Marriage and Family and looked at Professor Letuecq’s paper. If you thought calculus or microeconomics were complicated, you are in for a shock. Although my brief read through convinced me that the treatise is ‘full of sound and fury, signifying nothing‘ except that white male heterosexuals are responsible for all the ills of the world.

On Brumby Road, we practice our own version of marriage fundamentalism. If Stoker isn’t happy, nobody is happy’. And on her part, Stoker lets me rant and rave a bit when we have disagreements, secure in the knowledge that we will end up doing it her way. It’s fundamental…

Some readers may wonder why I haven’t written about the tariffs and the stock market and the future of the world economy. The reason is that everyone has an opinion, and the kinder and gentler me is trying to avoid conflict. I am pretty much against anything that stifles free trade unless those measures enhance national security or are a response to other countries using unfair trade practices to take advantage of us.

So I don’t know if the actions by the Trump Administration are going to be positive or negative. If they lead to a retaliatory trade war and produce a recession, or even worse, a global military conflict, they will prove to be a horrible mistake. If they lead to serious negotiations by nations to create free and fair trade agreements and economic cooperation, they will be a boon. I don’t know which. Lots of pundits, and some of my friends, seem quite sure that they know the answer already.

Here is one view of the objective:

“At the end of the day, I hope it’s agreed that both Europe and the United States should move ideally, in my view, to a zero-tariff situation, effectively creating a free trade zone between Europe and North America,” Musk said.

That would be good, and I hope he is right.

Now on to the stock market. When I look at our personal financial situation, I follow a couple of self imposed rules. I keep our stock market allocation between 60 and 70% of our assets. And those stock investments are not going to be needed for at least 5 years. No forced selling to make RMD’s or pay for a deck replacement (which is almo$t done).

I also do a spreadsheet (surprise!) and look at our asset allocation and total net worth every weekend. I built in some hypothetical calculations of what a 20% drop, and a 40% bear market would do to that total. So I have seen on paper what is happening now, and while I would rather the stock market stay high I am willing to accept the risk of major short term declines. Because those declines happen. The reasons are always different: Financial crisis, dot com bubble bursting, Covid, rampant inflation, a mega volcano in Montana, take your pick. This time it is global uncertainty of the future of trade, supply chains and geopolitical turmoil.

Climbing a wall of worry…the scale is logarithmic, so the slope represents the rate of change in market value

There is over 100 years of stock market history, with many examples of these crashes. Everything looks bad and everyone is sure that the end is near and the apocalypse is upon us. And eventually the market moved to new highs and resumed its long term trend of producing real returns (adjusted for inflation) of around 7.5% per annum. To get that return you have to accept volatility. You don’t have to like it, and if it causes you anxiety and loss of sleep, then better to stick with CD’s. You might beat inflation by 1 or 2%.

Someone said that the 4 most dangerous words in English are “It’s different this time“. Maybe it is, and we are never going to see new market highs and we are on the verge of economic and societal collapse. If you think so then sell stocks and buy guns and gold and water purifiers and emergency food rations. Or heed the magnificent voice of John Houseman when he did Smith Barney commercials back in the 1980’s: “Is the world going to end tomorrow? Probably not.”

Last month Stoker and I took a 5 day trip to Death Valley, with overnight stops in Ridgecrest and Lemoore. On what I used to refer to as an ‘Old People’s Bus Trip’. But now we are old people, and it is nice to have all the accommodations arranged and the itinerary decided in advance. By somebody else.

Riding in a bus up and down the San Joaquin Valley, I noticed things I don’t see when I’m driving. Mostly the incredible agricultural bounty of Central Valley. The almonds were blooming and I wondered who was going to eat all of the crop from those endless orchards.

We all know the valley is flat. But occasionally we passed huge mounds of dirt, laced with concrete and steel trellises. Towering above the surrounding fields, looking like the ruins of some ancient civilization. All alone and not connected to anything. They might be ruins eventually, but they aren’t ancient.

Modern Day Chichen Itza? The Mayans are Laughing

Back in 2008, the voters were promised a transportation Nirvana if they would just approve a bond issue. This being blue California, a voting majority does not ask about the finances, thinking money grows on (almond) trees, or only rich people pay taxes. If it sounds like a good idea we approve it, whatever it costs.

In 2008, California voters approved $9.95 billion of state bond funding as seed money to build an 800-mile high-speed rail (HSR) network connecting Los Angeles and San Francisco, and the Central Valley to coastal cities, at speeds of up to 220 miles per hour, with an expected completion date of 2020.

The green segments are ready for use. See any? Me neither.

The original promise was that the entire ‘bullet train’ would cost $40 billion, and whisk passengers from SF to LA in 2 1/2 to 3 hours. Project proponents speculated that the line would transport 90 million passengers each year. That is 250,000 per day, which seems like an optimistic forecast. Almost as optimistic as the construction schedule.

Here we are in 2025, 18 years after the bond issue and 5 years after the 2020 start date promised to the voters. No track had been laid. Plenty of money has been spent though.

It gets even better, which means even worse. The new plan is to complete the line from Merced to Bakersfield first. Talk about a train bound for nowhere! That alone is now projected to cost $33 billion. And they need $7 billion STAT!

During a budget hearing focused on transportation in the State Assembly on Wednesday, Helen Kerstein with the California Legislative Analyst’s Office told lawmakers the project faces a $7 billion budget gap and the funds need to be secured by next June. If not, Kerstein said it will create yet another delay for plans to finish the project’s first segment between Merced and Bakersfield.

The hope is to complete this (virtually useless) segment by 2030 to 2033. Anybody taking bets?

Readers, fear not. The Rich Freggiaro Cycling Blog isn’t going anywhere. There is plenty of lunacy around for material.

But today’s blog is not about lunacy. It’s a love story, expressed as shared experiences and effort getting ourselves from Point A to Point B using our own power. And creating some of the best memories of our marriage

We started tandem riding in 2005, on a very mediocre bike that a friend wasn’t using and offered to loan us. After a couple of months we bought that Cannondale from him. Our first big ride was the local Giro ‘d Vino, back when it was a metric century (62 miles) with more riding and less sipping than now. We had been doing some rides with the Stockton Bike Club, where we could survive without getting too far behind most of the time. So this ride came as a shock. There were lots of casual cyclists on the road and for the first time, I found myself saying ‘On your left’ as we passed other riders.

We became convinced that riding together was something we wanted to do, so I knew we deserved a better bike. And we got one: a CoMotion Supremo, made in Oregon. We took delivery in 2006, and over the next 15 years put over 30,000 miles on it. It weighed about 33 lbs. , something like 12 fewer that the Cannondale it replaced, And it had much faster wheels. Diane picked out the paint scheme, a 3 color fade from black to pewter to silver. Of course that was the most expensive paint option; Stoker likes nice stuff.

We became semi regulars on Club rides. We pedaled up Stoney Creek Road. Once. I decided I wanted to stay married. We did Ram’s Horn Grade. Once. Ditto. We climbed the Calaveras Road Wall outside of Milpitas. Once. Double ditto. But loops out of Ione or Wallace were regular training rides for us.

Training for what? Cycle tours. We rode down the entire Oregon Coast. We rode in Death Valley. Rode in the Arizona Desert and to the Mexican border. We did rides in Solvang. And we rode from Glacier, Montana to Jasper through the Canadian Rockies. Up the 10 mile climb of Going to the Sun Road. And over the 25 mile slog up Highwood Pass, the highest paved road (elevation 7,250) in Canada.

We rode a rented tandem in France for 5 days in 2015. That went so well we did 2 weeks in 2016, and then rented a house in Malaucene for an entire month from 2017 until 2019. We rode rental tandems in France and left the CoMotion home. Breaking down a tandem for international shipment was beyond me.

In May 2019 in France, we had our best month ever. 17 rides, 450 miles and 29,000 feet through the hills of Provence. We were strong and it seemed that we could do this for a long while yet. It turned out to be our last hurrah.

We started 2020 getting ready for another trip to France, but Covid stopped that. We cut back on our riding; there didn’t seem to be much point. The Club rides were stopped so it was just Diane and me, with no social interaction at all.

Even when Covid was lifted we didn’t go back to riding. Health issues, nervousness on the pilot’s part, a decline in the watts we could put out. Getting the CoMotion up any hill was always a challenge for us both, and I know my power numbers aren’t really up to it any more.

We fell out of the riding habit completely. It turned out that our very last tandem ride was on Halloween, 2021. We did a slow 21 miles to The Fruit Bowl. Trick or treat!

Since then the CoMotion has been hanging in our garage, gathering dust. Unridden and unloved. A reminder of what we did together and what we can no longer do. I’m only a little melancholy about it. Life goes on, we still have each other and most of our health. And a thousand incredible memories.

I started asking people I know if they were interested in the bike. I didn’t have a lot of hope. A few people said maybe. But then two really good friends and strong cyclists expressed interest, and I got excited. They actually have a tandem and had done some riding together, but their bike is a semi truck and the CoMotion is a Ferrari by comparison. Their first test rides convinced them that if I didn’t want the bike, they would be happy to give her a good home.

I didn’t take any money for the CoMotion. Doing that seemed to be a ’30 pieces of silver’ betrayal to me. I did suggest that my friends could make a donation to a charity Diane and I support, and they did so. Now they own the CoMotion and I can see them ride it occasionally on club rides.

So Stoker’s stoking days are over, but she will always be Stoker to me. Pedaling and smiling.