Gender Inconclusions I

I am pumping along rhythmically, biking uphill. A young man without a helmet bicycles to catch up.

"Are those studded tires?" he asks. The grinding of metal on asphalt has caught his attention.

"Yeah," I say.

"No kidding?" he asks, incredulous.

My tongue presses against the inside of my upper molars, chin thrust slightly outwards as I nod. I have seen my father in this posture talk to his trucker buddies. "Yeh," I say. "In mud and wet leaves, they're pretty useful."

He nods appreciatively.

"And, with the loads I carry, nothing else is gonna' give me that purchase."

The young man peers across at my confidence and swollen pride, and he smiles faintly in reverence. I am such a guy, I think.

Such a swaggering dude.