The bike in the foreground does not have a kickstand, unfortunately. But it is a Cannondale and is a mighty fast steed, once raced in the ProTour, in fact, so we'll let it off with a pass this time around.

Fortunately, the 50-someodd people in that photo have an equally strong taste for coffee and crullers that I do. So at 8:30 on a Monday morning -- Labor Day no less -- all these fine folks gathered and rode the pleasant hour clear across the state of New Hampshire and into Maine (okay, we started twenty miles from the border, so it wasn't quite the entire state we crossed) for a morning pick-me-up.Unfortunately, this turns into a learning moment. Relayed to me by a friend, we received a complaint from the chief of police in one of the towns through which we rode, having received word from local drivers who were berserk because our group was riding up to five abreast, riding dangerously, and not letting cars pass.(headslap)Let me be clear, it is literally impossible to ride five abreast on these roads.If you've said goodbye to me more than about three times, you've likely heard me bid farewell with, "Make good decisions." I do the same thing when setting out on a group ride. Upon convening at the bike shop to begin the ride, I stressed, as I do on any group ride, the importance of bicycle etiquette. As it was taught to me and as I continue to pass along this timeless wisdom: never ride more than two abreast and never take up more than half of our one lane. Treat the yellow line as Kryptonite and never get near it.As discussed, it was Labor Day and as I spun the six miles to the start, I was as ecstatic as I was surprised how starkly barren the roads were of cars. Turns out Labor Day Monday mornings are quiet. The subsequent 18 miles to Kittery, the roads were equally sparse in the vehicle department and it was glorious!Albeit a beautiful day, we had a ripping headwind come out of the north on the exact stretch of road where the complaint came in. I took up the position I once maintained in my pro race days, and I rode at the front of the group the entire ride and applied ample pressure on the pedals so as to keep the group strung out. I'm not speaking to my superhuman strength, just to say that to ride away from the group and to the left, into the wind and into the lane would mean you're spat out the back.I also kept constant awareness of what's going on by continually looking behind me. Trust me, I'm more aware of cars than 99.8% of cyclists out there. Throughout the ride, there was literally one time on a tight, sinuous stretch of road that four cars were backed up. I guarantee that the car waiting the longest had no more than 60 seconds before a safe place to pass came up at which point we signaled them by. Not only that, but they would have been out of their mind to attempt to pass prior to that.Generous thanks poured in immediately upon arriving to our destination. Riders were excited about pretty much everything I've mentioned above; the strong pace, the terrific weather, the communal fun we had, but more than anything else I heard from the group about how well behaved everyone was. How we maintained safe etiquette throughout the ride, we were polite to cars and pedestrians -- basically how smooth the entire day was.The wind was soon let out of my sails. The punch to the gut was strong and directly on point.Upon receiving the complaint, I reached out and spoke with the chief to hear him out and to explain our side. Hats off to him, he was entirely open and agreeable to our conversation. He was civil and diplomatic, and even showed a glimmer of empathy. I really appreciated that and he is doing his job to find a common ground between cyclist, behaving properly or badly, and motorists, who see cyclists and blow truth into exacerbated lies.Slightly flummoxed at this point, I next reached out to friends on the ride -- veteran cyclists, with a strong pedigree of riding and racing -- and before I mentioned our complaint or having spoken to the police, I asked them what they thought of our ride and manners on the road that day. They echoed everything already said. They were pleased as punch that we were well behaved, stayed impressively tight as a group, we were glued to the white line, never riding more than two abreast, nor riding dangerously. Five abreast? Give me a break (and brake).Look, I'm aware of the zany behavior of cyclists as much as the next guy. I know that immediate, visceral reaction when I'm behind the wheel of a car, round a corner, and see a group of three cyclists spread out across the road. That bugs the crap out of me too. So what's the moral of the story here? I struggle to find it. I've come to realize when motorists who are not cyclists see a group of riders greater than five, it just looks like a mass of nerds, metal, and spandex. They don't see human beings and they definitely don't see any organization. So even if a group of a meager half dozen is in a tightly arranged two-by-two bunch, they just see red.That group in the photo below is a group of 50 cyclists who've just completed a very well behaved ride, are hanging out, chatting away, drinking coffee and eating crullers, and having fun dammit. That's not going to change. So to keep having fun, let's keep the mentality of an angry motorist and stay as far right as you can, don't ride like an entitled jerk in spandex, rather a wise and observant cyclist. And by all means, keep having fun.