A woman I know only as the bookkeeper for the other bike shop came in an hour ago to tell me a friend of hers, who was slightly more than an acquaintance of mine, shot himself on October first.

He had the best bike shop in Houston until he got a divorce and his wife and daughters got the shop. He moved to New Mexico, and when I opened my shop, he took a shine to me, maybe because he missed working with his daughters. He’d visit about once a year. Once he brought one of his daughters in and introduced us. He gave me a nice sculpture of a cyclist. His friend the bookkeeper gave me a jersey from his old shop, saying I was one of the people he wanted to have one.

He was old and in pain, and I gather from his friend he had not been happy for a while. I respect his decision, but I’ll miss seeing him.