Get Thee Behind Me

Now, I've been called many things by strangers while out on my bike: Jerk, Asshole, Jerkhole, Assjerk... you get the idea.  I've also been the recipient of lots of constructive criticism, such as "Get off the Fucking Road" and "Slow Down Asshole."  All of these bon mots I take to heart, and try to use to better myself.  You know, by not being such a jerkhole... as least not all the time.

But last week, while riding rather slowly by an older ponytailed man, he looked directly at me, smiled, waved, and said, quite clearly:

"Bye Satan."

Then, just in case I thought I head misheard him, he repeated, "Bye Satan."

Yeah, I don't know what to make of it either.  I mean, am I Satan?  That would be kind of awesome.

But don't you think someone closer to me may have clued me into that previously?  Or that I may have noticed that I had some special skills like, for example, being immortal and having godlike powers?  And also, I don't think I would sweat as much, which would be nice.

But then again, maybe this beponytailed (hey, it works for spectacles) gentleman just has an incredible power of insight and sees what all others have missed.

But wait, maybe I'm not Satan (hurray!), but Satan was with me on my ride.  Kind of like that "one set of footsteps in the sand" parable, but bike centered.  Oh, and evil.  Yes, maybe Satan was simply acting as my personal cycling coach and, having done his training for this evening, was taking off.  So, this stranger was just being polite and bidding him adieu.

Great, now that Satan is training me, I'm sure I'm going to have to buy a powermeter.  Damn.