Bad manners maketh Baby Boomers?

Within five minutes of wheeling a little convoy of bicycles on to the Capital Crescent Trail, that lovely, leafy asphalt path that runs from Washington, D.C. through Bethesda, Maryland, there appeared not four horsemen, but three bicyclists of the apocalypse.

The first came in the form of bull-headed, late-middle-aged man. We saw him steaming towards us, pumping his legs and glaring down the trail with unusual ferocity. The path was un-crowded; it had rained earlier in the day and the steely clouds were just giving way to patches of blue.