Last weekend, Monroe St. had the packed, white gravel roads of Strade Bianche.
"Wouldn't it be wonderful if it were like this everyday?" a walking older woman asked me as I descended Friday night.
"This neighborhood is so much nicer without the cars, you can take up the whole road!" an elderly man walking his dog told me as I ground my way up the hill.
By Tuesday, the white road was gone; underneath a glassy, smooth asphalt layer I'll be riding up and down this weekend.