Cycling day

I had to skip two Friday cycling days as my partner, my brother Jeff, was on holiday for two weeks. It's a good bet that if we both are unavailable on the same day, then this is the day that all hell breaks loose. So cycling today was especially appreciated. Plus the weather was at its best: warm, dry, sunny with a light southeasterly breeze.
As chance had it, only Ari signed up for this week's ride. The other usual Friday suspects were out of town, injured, or otherwise occupied. Taking advantage of the small group size, I had last night plotted an 86-km loop beginning (and ending) in St-Philippe, a small town 20 km due south of Montreal that I am certain I have never passed through before. It's a one church, one dépanneur, one gas station kind of town with not a hint of anybody actually living there, save for a few homes and beat-up cars. We parked at the boarded-up community centre and jumped onto our bikes.
We very quickly cycled out of town and headed due south towards the US border, 40 km away. It's a funny sensation to be passing through farm country, the corn I recognize but uncertain as to what the other crops are, so close to Montreal but feeling as if I am in another country, experiencing a foreign adventure. I will very soon be cycling through Puglia, in southeast Italy, and can imagine feeling the same warm sunshine, noticing the farmhouses and farming equipment, marveling at how fortunate I am to have the experience, and so I decide to feel the very same right now and right here in my own backyard! What a treat to have the day off! The roads are uncharacteristically free of potholes with almost zero traffic to consider. If not for the gelatto and the Adriatic Sea, why spend so much money to cycle in Italy anyway?

My Morning commute

On any given morning driving to work, I am continually made aware of the varied characters of the dozens of people that I notice. Pedestrians waiting for the green light, cyclists buzzing through the red light, drivers weaving in and out, and others, too, perhaps a woman sitting on a bench feeding seed to the pigeons or a man unloading sacks of fruit from the back of a truck double-parked in front of the produce store.
What strikes me is how clearly I can discern each person's character. I am no genius at reading body language, however it must be obvious to all when a driver deliberately veers into the right lane, usually filled with parked cars, but not always, advances a bit only to veer back into the driving lane two or three cars cut off in the process. What is the driver thinking? Is he (rarely a she) a VIP, more important than us who he has cut off? Is he a self-important boor, or in a rush to the hospital to see his injured child just admitted after a fall on her head at the local park?