The terrible tyranny of two-wheel tribal wear [BikingInLA]

One day last winter, I found myself riding Downtown to attend an early morning press conference.
And something I’ve learned in recent years is that the press likes to talk to people who look like their preconceived notions of a cyclist.
It doesn’t matter if the guy next to you is the head of a bicycling organization, a professional cyclist or someone who’s been riding for decades. If he or she is dressed in street clothes and you’re in spandex, you can expect the camera in your face.
Since there were things I wanted to say on the day’s subject, I put on my best road gear and set out on a rush hour ride to City Hall.
On the way, though, I noticed an interesting thing.
Despite the chilly early hour, there were a lot of other riders on the road.
Some, like me, were dressed in spandex. Many of whom nodded in my direction as they passed, acknowledging me as one of their own.
Others were clad in jeans or business attire, apparently on their way to work or school. And not one of whom seemed to take any notice of me, as if we were members of two separate species.
More interesting, though, was what happened later that same evening as the situation was reversed.