If I board the bus or walk into my office building sans velo, I am inevitably asked, "Where's your bike?"

My response, a white lie, usually is, "In the shop." I've learned this stems follow-up questions. Drivers understand having a car in the shop; they can identify with that, and usually just nod and go, "Mmmm." If I say, "At home," or, "Felt like resting today," or, "I'm running home," it just draws more questions. (Number two response to "In the shop," after the nod/hum: "Flat tire?")

Either motorists or I need to wise up and be warier: one of us is gonna get carjacked or kidnapped.

Perhaps it is that I ride a bike; perhaps it is my boyish charm, or my lanky, gawky physique, but motorists love asking me directions; maybe it's because I am usually eating candy. They see me as non-threatening, though I am actually bad to the bone (that's right, ladies).

My friend Lori consistently turns up Internaut gems, such as 1,000 Awesome Things, a blog cataloguing, as you might imagine, 1,000 things in life that are awesome.

They are simple, subtle things, each small item battleship big and mountain range grand, in its own way. No surprise that bicycles are on there.

If you aren't already aware of it, you should check out Michelle Marcus' blog, I Dream of Bicycling.

You likely know Michelle by sight, if not personally. She rides classically and with style, usually on a royal blue Takara three-speed, sporting skirts, pumps, blouses. Nary a hint of spandex or moisture-wicking polyester: all class.

This year, particularly the last four months, have unquestionably been the worst and most difficult of my life, heaping before me hardship and heartbreak, piles of woe unmerited and unwanted. And the bad news keeps coming. Needless to say, I am ready to close the books on 2009.

Friends rallied to aid me, to boost my spirits, offer solidarity and advice. Among it, perhaps the best: “Don’t forget, your bike is there for you -- and so are we!”

Both have softened the sorrow.