Piet Griffioen, R.I.P.

Writing this title, it still doesn't register. There was stuff to report from today's coffee ride, but when I got home I learned that my friend Piet had suddenly died, yesterday. His heart gave out, just weeks after his 60th birthday. Piet was, among many other things, a dedicated bicycle commuter (four times a week, an hour-and-a-half each way, summer and winter, on the road by 6:30 am, back around 7:30 pm), but he was also a friend of almost thirty years, and one of the most good-natured and kind people I have ever known. We car-pooled to the same evening school in the early 1980s; along with other friends visited numerous performances by original American blues men and women; as part of the same group (also including his long-time partner Trees) regularly went to see Freek de Jonge (just last month, I ran into him and Trees at Freek's most recent show); we have spent countless hours at his place, hanging out and listening to more music (Piet had been to the notorious first Rolling Stones concert in the Netherlands, in Scheveningen--ended prematurely because the crowd started breaking down the theater); and there was a good deal of cycling in our friendship also. Back in the 1980s, Piet could go incredibly long at a very impressive pace, especially if you realized that he didn't exactly live the life of an athlete. He was on my first Markermeer loop (1982--it would be more accurate to say I was along on his Markermeer loop), and this totally flat century didn't seem to bother him in the least (being a runner, not a cyclist, back then, I suffered like a dog). I never did the longer, 200 mile full loop around the IJsselmeer with him, but those who did basically had the same experience. There were many other rides, and there should have been more--I was looking forward to getting more after returning to the Netherlands. In the end, I only got two; only twice did I run into Piet on the way home from Amsterdam last semester. After the first time, I started doing his route. We then joked about how he was trying to time his ride home so that he could avoid having to do my pace. The two times we did ride together I slowed down a little, and maybe he had to work a little harder, but they were wonderful rides back to Nederhorst den Berg (where Piet lived all his life), with too little time to talk. I'm glad I got those moments, but it will be a while before I fully realize (to say nothing of accept) that there will not be any more.