A Brief Encounter

In the midst of a reverie concerning the pending closure of five Oakland schools, I was surprised to hear a voice from behind me: "Excuse me, sir?"
I stopped pedaling, assuming that the only person that could possibly be addressed in the early morning hours on this side street was me. I was also curious to see who would be calling after me in such a polite fashion on my ride to work.
It was another biker. This guy was much younger than I, and as he coasted to a stop next to me, I briefly admired the bright red paint job his bicycle was sporting. Then my fellow two-wheeler asked, "Is that your only bike?"
For a moment I considered my responses: What business is it of yours? No, I have several back in the bike port. This is the only one that I know of. So many sarcastic responses, so many layers of uncertainty. I settled on the truth: "Nope. This is the only one."
"Man," the young dude exclaimed, "I been seeing you ride through here for years, and I was sure that you had lots of different bikes."
"Same one I've had for years," I assured him adding, "Just a new inner tube now and then, but this is it."
"Wow. I was sure that you must have a bunch of bikes."
Then came the awkward pause. I didn't have a clue about where else this line of discussion was going to go. Maybe, "Well, now you've got no bikes," as his accomplice emerged from the bushes and pushed me to the ground. Or, "I don't really need this one. How would you like a new bike?" When neither side of the spectrum emerged, I smiled and nodded. "Have a good ride," I told him as I got back up on my pedals and headed off in the direction of my school. He waved goodbye and rode off in the opposite direction.
I started thinking about all the possibilities.