A few months ago my eye was drawn to a Surly traveling down the road as I headed home from work. I could see the rust, which seemed a shame. I speculated as to which year that particular bike had been built; it was a color I don’t remember seeing on a Surly before. It could be a custom paint job, or it could be a few years older than most of the Surlys I see. Which, granted, isn’t many.

Last week, on the same road, I saw the Surly again. Traffic was moving quickly, so I had just a glimpse, but I think it was the same bike, and presumably the same person. How many green Surlys are there going up and down Beulah, after all?

Today as I coasted up to a red light, I saw the Surly again! “I like your Surly!” I called. “I like yours too!” he responded.

It made me smile, that Surly connection, our mutual love.

Maybe the next time I see that Surly, it will be on the road instead of on the back of his car.

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