It's morning in Seattle

Today, I'd like to briefly discuss a class of people, a group of which I am a member. I'll refer to us as the "people of the morning."

During the summer, I enjoy a vigorous bike ride every morning at six. It's a great time to take in the sights and smells of summer, without having to worry too much about getting clipped in the temple by a large truck's side view mirror.

It's also a good opportunity to observe the others who own the morning:

The old guys—actually this can be broken down even further.

We've got the elderly men who stick close to their homes' peripheries. They walk around, raising flags and washing driveways. In fact, one guy actually hoses down his driveway every single morning. Come on now...how dirty can a driveway get in one day? I suppose I could return around lunchtime to see if he spreads out Kraft Singles, baloney and Wonderbread on the pavement.

The other type of older dude goes for really, really long walks. Very often, I ride up behind and past one fellow on the local park trail, and without fail, I startle him enough to cause a him to spastically flinch and hop. Hopefully, he's lived a full life, because one of these days, he's going to flat line on me.

The dog walkers—It's difficult to classify these people into one homogeneous group, because Seattle has more dogs than children, and slightly less than farmers' markets. One common characteristic among them is their strict obedience to clean-up laws. They can produce that plastic bag out of nowhere. Fecal David Copperfields, these people.

The runners—Why do they still wear the same shorts we wore in the seventies? Yes, you people have great legs, but please don't think you're merely showing upper thigh...you are actually flashing lower crotch.

The creepers—Last but not least, there's that random guy, slinking around for no apparent reason. These sightings usually occur at the aforementioned local park. I'm thinking these guys are congressmen, since the senators have already claimed airport restrooms as their turf.

I suppose I should categorize myself as well, since I'm right out there riding among everyone, early each morning, clad in spandex and neon.

Nah.