"Why so glum, chum? This is one of those glorious warm October days, so perfect here in the Bay Area. Our classic Indian Summer." Ann patted Sam on the back as she joined him sitting on a trunk of a large tree that had fallen at the crest of one of the hills on the old closed road overlooking the Carquinez Strait. Sam was throwing stones down the steep mountainside. They were taking a break from their usual Sunday mountain bike ride on the side of a steep hill between Port Costa and Triangle Valley near Martinez. They were sharing an orange and a bottle of cool mineral water as they rested.

Sam said, "You're right. It's been a perfect fall this year. I've loved it. That may be the problem."

The breeze had whipped up white caps on the water below, and across the Strait, Benicia baked in the afternoon sun under a stark blue cloudless sky. An Amtrack passenger train approached from the right and they watched as it meandered on its predetermined route following the curving coastline below. Its air horn blasted the palpable mountain quiet all along the narrow trail as rail cars clacked by in a long serpentine line.

"How could perfect be a problem?" Ann said.

"Well, it isn't June anymore, that's how. The seasons are blowing by like weeks. Where the hell did all that time go?"

Ann turned to Sam with a grin. Putting a slip of hair behind her ear in an unconscious habit, she said, "Feeling just a tad older now, Sam? These Sunday bike rides getting to you? Pooping you out? Relax. You've had a full and busy season. You've done about everything you wanted to do this summer, right?"

"True," Sam said, nodding. "But it went by so damned fast."

"Oh, I get it." Ann patted Sam on the back again and rubbed his neck. "I forgot. You've got another birthday coming up soon, don't you?"

Sam tossed his orange peel down the mountain slope and stared across the Strait beyond Benicia and the horizon. An old oil tanker plowed through the tide toward the Benicia Bridge and a bunch of aggressive sea lions honked in angry competition for space on a nearby buoy. Sam spaced out.

Ann jabbed her elbow into Sam's ribs. "You can't ignore me. I won't let you," she said, and broke into a giggle as she forced her face close to his. "Get real, Sam. Getting older isn't so bad. Think of it as, er, well, maturing." Ann ran her hand through Sam's thinning hair and the hint of gray at the temples.

"I love the scent of the eucalyptus trees and the view from up here," Ann said. Sam shook his head in silent agreement while examining the old fallen tree trunk they were sitting on and picked at the bark.

"That's not it, Honey. It's just that I hate the damp cold rains of dull gray Bay Area winters. That foggy chill just hangs around for ages. The idea of shivering, wearing sweat shirts and having hands plunged into pockets all winter turns me off."

"Yeah. You're getting older," Ann said with a tease in her voice.

Sam turned towards Ann and buzzed her cheek with his lips. "You're cruel, a sadist," he said.

"Nope. Just a realist. That's the price we pay for our seven straight months of daily sunshine. Come on, let's finish our ride."

Sam stood up as a cooling Pacific breeze blew strands of hair over Ann's eyes. "Look at yourself, Ann. You're in neat designer shorts and a snug tank-top, lookin' great. In a few weeks you'll be in baggy jeans and a bulky old sweatshirt, lookin', well, not as great. Summertime. Ya gotta love it." A sudden cool breeze seemed to emphasize his words.

Ann hopped off the log, placed locks of hair behind her ears, hooked her thumbs behind the front of her fashionable shorts and concentrated on Sam's eyes. "You're turning into a cranky old grouch of a curmudgeon. Come on, get with it and lets ride."

Sam put his hand to his back, grinning, feigning a backache and gimp, and limped to his mountain bike. "I'd better get home quick, m'darlin'. Winter'll be here soon'n I'll be dead."