I needed a chocolate pickup mid-afternoon yesterday and made a bee line for the break room where I saw a guy in colorful bike shorts and jersey. I nearly squeed. Nearly. Instead, I said, "Oh! You're the other biker!"
He looked at me, puzzled. I explained, "Mine is the white bike with the basket."
He immediately warmed up and we geeked about our respective five (me) and ten (him) mile commutes, organized group rides like the Backroads and Tour de Cure, and training for a century. Really nice guy.
This morning, the other other cyclist -- whose bike I haven't seen at the rack in about a month -- rode up as I walked from the garage to the building. I couldn't get a good look at his face, but I did notice the rain cover on his helmet and his rain pants. Not bad choices for the wet morning.