“When the spirits are low, when the day appears dark, when work becomes monotonous, when hope hardly seems worth having, just mount a bicycle and go out for a spin down the road, without thought on anything but the ride you are taking.”—Sir Arthur Conan DoyleFor the past five days, I have been attending a conference in Indianapolis, Indiana; the highlight—more than a dozen fixies and singles displayed on a terra cotta plaza one block from my hotel. The Colonel Eli Lilly Civil War Museum somehow serves as quite a contrasting and ornate background for this congregation of elegant yet simplistic bicycles. Each bike reflected its owners character—Surly, Cap(o)ricious, and Independent. Several of these cyclists nodded to me when they perceived that I was photographing their bikes…and not the picturesque museum in the background. You could tell that they like the musical genres of Indie rock artists place a premium on maintaining complete control of their passions and careers, and relying on touring.
The beautiful high sixties temperatures called these cyclists to congregate at midday to enjoy some comradely riding. At precisely 1430 they mounted their rides, waved to me (almost as a salute to my perceivable desires to be amongst them), and rode off, waiting for no one else. Shortly thereafter, a dozen or more road bikes followed in the same direction, but at a discernable distance—as if to honor their rank and file of their predecessors.
