“Hang on, let me check. I keep a hard copy of that stuff handy, in case people ask.” Papers rustled. “Here it is! Let’s see. I was told they’re meeting this week out toward Chancellor. Should be a good ride, lots of hill work for interval training. If you’re looking to get into biking, this is a great group for getting your feet wet. Most of them are summer people, but they’re really friendly and won’t make fun of your equipment even if you bought it at a big-box store.”

I had no idea that bike snobbery was a thing. I’d obtained my current bike through Ash, who had bought it at a sheriff’s sale of seized property for next to nothing. Its original provenance was a question mark. “Um,” I said, but didn’t get any further.

“Tell you what. The weather today couldn’t be better for a ride, and there won’t be many days like this left. I’ll text the group’s coordinator and tell them to expect you.”

And there it was. The worst thing had just happened.

“Um—”

“I’m so glad you called. Before you know it, you’ll be helping out with the new trail.” Honey laughed.

“Wait, I didn’t, I don’t . . .”

But she was already gone.

And so it was that, six hours later, I found myself in the middle of the county, in the tiny burg of Chancellor, pulling into a church parking lot partially filled with vehicles, every one of which had a bike rack.

I came to a stop a little distance away from everyone else and got out of my car slowly, counting ten people of various ages wandering about the lot in various flavors of biking gear. Some were in colorful nylon and shiny black shorts, some in T-shirts and baggy shorts. I looked down at the biking shorts Ash had basically made me purchase and the T-shirt I’d purchased from the middle school band boosters and figured I’d be fine.

“You must be Minnie.” A sixtyish man walked toward me, smiling. “Honey texted me you might be coming. Good to have you with us!” We shook hands, and he introduced himself as Terry Ridenour, recently retired Grand Rapids dentist.

“Want some help with that?” He gestured at my car’s trunk, which I’d popped open.

“Sure, thanks.” Between the two of us, we leveraged my bike out and onto the ground, and he held it upright while I reached back into the trunk for the front wheel.

“Honey said there’s going to be a lot of hills tonight?”