I guess the redneck in the pickup with the Bush-Cheney sticker didn't like my cadence as he passed too close with his mirror and gunned it shoot diesel exhaust and slush in my face. I only disliked him for a minute then I got back to enjoying my slushy ride. Arriving at work to dry the clothes made me happier the more I thought about the ride. It just felt right, the saddle, legs, and traction in concert. My hands comfortably draped on the levers as the bike glided over icy bits and into the soft shoulder.