What Kind Of Man Is He?

Most of us, at one point or another, have broken up with a boyfriend, girlfriend or spouse--or simply ended a friendship.

There are, as often as not, sadness and hurt feelings. Fortunately, in most breakups, both parties have at least some sense that the end of their relationship coming and they go their separate ways.

On the other hand, there are those splits that don't end so quietly, especially if one or both parties are particularly angry, resentful or vindictive.  I know:  I've been involved in a couple of them.  In some of the worst cases (including one of mine), the one who's at the receiving end of the breakup says or does something in an attempt to damage the person who broke up the relationship.  Facebook can be a particularly nasty but effective weapon to achieve that.

So, why am I writing about such things on a bike blog?  Well, in Boca Raton, Florida, 65-year-old George Morreale was riding his bicycle near Yamato Road and Interstate 95 in April 2014.  It would be his last bike ride:  A pickup truck struck him, fatally.

Paul Maida, a 33-year-old West Boca Raton resident, claimed that he was in the passenger's seat while his girlfriend, 27-year-old Bianca Fichtel, was at the wheel.

She was initially charged but turned over e-mails that pointed to Maida driving at the time of the crash.  Those e-mails, according to prosecutors, showed that he asked her to switch seats before they returned to the scene of the crash.

So now you know one of the crimes for which Maida was found guilty in July:  leaving the scene of a fatal crash.  He was also found guilty of driving with a suspended license and filing a false report to the police.  He was, however, acquitted of DUI manslaughter.

Yesterday he was sentenced:  12 years in prison.

I know I shouldn't make light of something like this, but this thought popped into my head:  If I were Ms. Fichtel, I wouldn't visit him.

First Flakes, First Time

I saw snow for the first time....

...this morning.  This season.

Yes, flurries floated down to my helmet and the roadway as I pedaled to work today.  A few flakes fluttered through the air as I arrived on campus and locked my bike to the rack. 



By the time I'd finished my first class, the snow had stopped and none of it accumulated.  Still, I have to wonder if it's a harbinger for the season:  I don't recall seeing snow this early last year.  Then again, I've seen earlier snow in other years and perhaps any sign of winter is a surprise, given how warm it was during October and the first few days of this month.

So, does seeing snow for the first time--this day, this season--mean much of anything?  Probably not, at least for me or anyone else who lives in this part of the world.  But for the guys in the photos, it's another story.

You see, they are the Rwandan National Cycling Team.  They were at a camp in Utah, training for the Tour de Gila (their first US race) in 2007 when they encountered the white stuff on the side of the road.

They were so in awe of it that they were stuffing it into their jersey pockets, not realizing that it would melt.  Some of them also put it on their heads and got a case of brain freeze.

I sort of envy them, for their cycling abilities and for their sense of wonder at seeing snow for the first time.  I wonder what could stop me in a similar way during my commute!

Working In Mysterious Ways

If you have ever read Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, you might recall this:

Miss Watson she took me in the closet and prayed, but nothing come of it. She told me to pray every day, and whatever I asked for I would get it. But it warn't so. I tried it. Once I got a fish-line, but no hooks. It warn't any good to me without hooks. I tried for the hooks three or four times, but somehow I couldn't make it work. By and by, one day, I asked Miss Watson to try for me, but she said I was a fool. She never told me why, and I couldn't make it out no way.

Now, if Twain had been writing a century and a half later, Huck might have said something like this: