. . . solo riders whenever and ever, packs roving from work or to a party, pairs at midnight passing in the park, old friends gossiping at speed, couples who keep pace to hold hands, dad and daughter who loco-conversate (their day discussed on the ride home), bikers ride in each group and in all groupings, and yet most ride yard sale, borrowed-from grandma's garage kind of bikes, the endless variety of bikers on standard issue bikes lending constant cadence to all you see, a baseline of horizontal rhythm, an irregular metronome of visual pleasantries.
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