A black ribbon curlicues into the distance, cutting a meandering but distinct line through the greenscape. Immediately in front of me, the blacktop wends left, then left again before hightailing it steeply downhill to the right. I lower into the drops of the bike’s handlebars, tuck my knees to my chest, lean into the downturn of California’s Highway 49, and go.
Air as hot as the inside of a sauna whizzes past my ear. Roadside trees blur into a high-speed, green slurry. Carbon fiber buzzes ever so slightly, a sensation that is more felt than heard, as it absorbs the road. My skinny tires roll over  … More