My electric bike came last week. I think of it as a cool version of one of those mobility scooters you see advertised in AARP mag (not that I get AARP mag, mind you). The FedEx dude said the box was huge when he pulled up. I said, “It’s an electric bike, my birthday present for turning 60.” He said, “No way, you’re 60. I’ve got a dad who’s 60 and he looks like a dinosaur in comparison to you.” I should have given him a tip. Instead I said, “Since I’m an old man, you’re going to carry this thing to my porch, right?” He said no problem. I got my wrenches out and set the bike up (something I used to do in bike stores when I was in high school and college), charged the battery and took it for a spin. Very spiffy. Two hours later my wife and I ran into a novelist/film maker on the street (he was in town to premier a movie; I had no idea). I wanted to bring him home to show off my new toy, but instead we (mostly my wife and him) talked about books. Books! Who’d a thunk it?