Memory Screen

I found this picture in a box of old cycling crap today. That's the "lobby" of Lightning Express messenger service in San Francisco, probably 1995 judging by my tee shirt. My bike at the time was a Trek 1220 (aluminum!) with the first round of cheap STI, a nice Brooks saddle and a Son Volt sticker. That's 98 in the black jacket, we're looking at his bike and (probably) discussing how our dispatcher gave him the bulk of the afternoon court runs. It got so bad that the rest of us just referred to him as "Money", kind of out of respect and kind of out of envy. 98 and I got along really well so we hung out when on stand-by and would end most days at Spider Murphy's Irish pub, conveniently located across the alley from LX. Seeing as we were the same height and had really long hair and worked for the same company, everyone thought we were either brothers or the same person. He continued working in SF long after I moved back to Minnesota and last I heard, the 15 or so years on the road had caught up to him. I guess he lives in a small town somewhere in Northern California and is not riding for a living. Anyway, here's to you 98, even if Wayne always gave you the gravy!