I was on my way home from my lunch time ride yesterday when I decided to stop and get some fixins for lunch. My wanderings had taken me past a weathy subdivision south of town and there was a grocery store conviently located next to it. I go into the store and quickly find most of what I wanted so I'm wandering up and down the condiments section looking for hot sauce when who should appear but the store manager. He says to me, "May I help you find something, Sir?" A quick glance the other way confirms that yes, he's talking to me. So I'm thinking, here I am, an older fellow pushing the higher side of 50, long gray beard, black leather jacket, jeans, chaps and boots. The roads are still a bit sloppy with all the snow melting so I have a bit or road grime on me as well. How nice that the store manager would take the time out from a busy lunch crowd to help little old me. So I says, "Yea, where can I find the Mexican hot sauce?" He says, "That would be on isle 12. May I take you over there and show you where it is, Sir?" I says, "Naw, I think I can find it ok myself". But you know he was kind enough to follow me over there and make sure I found it ok. Then he made sure I didn't have any trouble finding the check out counter as well. Such a nice biker friendly place. I'll have to make a habit of stopping there more often.