So this guy bicycles in, comes to the door and says, “ Hi, my name’s Armstrong.” And (you know how quick I am) I say, “Armstrong? You must be in all-American boy.” and he says, “Well, I am an all-American boy. Do you fix bicycles?” So I tell him that we do mechanical and body work and paint foreign and domestic automobiles and trucks, and have been in the same location for more than 50 years, and then I ask, “What’s wrong with your bike?” ”Nothing” he says,” but I like to race and I want to go faster.” That’s easy,” I say. “Rub your body with oil.” He looks at me kind of funny and says, “Oil.” “Yeah,” I say. “So the wind will slip off you, and also carry an ice pick.” He stares at me. “Ice pick?” “Yeah,” I say, “to stab their tires if they try to catch you.” He sort of gapes at me. So I say, “ In a little while, I bet you’ll be a champion bicycle rider.” “Well, thank you,ma’am,” he says, “ I can’t wait. Goodbye” and out he goes muttering to himself. Sounded like French.