What Chip said was "I understand you cyclists, really do. In what other sport can you zip around town in your underwear?"
I wholeheartedly agreed.

What Chip said was "I had a girlfriend once, she was one of those who always want their place to look spic and span, so whenever she found stuff out of order she'd collect it and drop it in a box. She bought those stylish IKEA box by the bunch, she had  her closet and garage lined up with them. When I helped her move, a few boxes fell from the hand truck, the content spread on the pavement, the most random things popped out. Her late mother dentures, a postcard from Cuba, a shot glass with dice on it. An empty can of Pringles. A dead small pet. Frozen moments from our life together. I don't know how long I stopped to stare at the picture being painted at my feet. But when she started shouting, I just left without ever turning back."

What Chip said was "God is vegetarian." He shouted it across State Street, "The longer you are vegetarian, the closer you get to God." I stopped to take a good look at him. He took most of the bench with his size, and his majestic white beard was right out of Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel. Yet I did not buy the theological argument. It was a lure, I knew it. And I decided to fall for it, getting closer to see what he had to say.