You were the handsome salt-and-pepper haired man in a tartan jacket, grey wool cap and folded up Levi's riding a black Raleigh 10-speed with double panniers, black fenders with pink polka dot stickers on them. I was following you all the way from North Beach on Montgomery all the way up Market Street about 10 pm on Friday night, until you turned left on Valencia, which was when you swung your head around and smiled at me. I told you I had been following you, and you said, "I know." But I didn't even get your name (damn!).
I shoulda yelled my phone number at you! Sometimes, regretfully, we all revert to nervous teenagers.
O Vélo Vogue, (at this point) you're my only hope!
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