PAUL D’ORLÉANS

THIS ONE IS 21-year-old stepdaughter, Gwen, who’s at Oxford. Because when I was her age, although I’d finished university, I did not have plans. One cannot live on a barista’s wage in American cities anymore, so graduates are expected to have ambition, and are judged lacking if they do not. But I was a lacker. I certainly had pursuits and prioritized splitting the air with my helmet, crouched low over a gorgeous, hand-built machine as the dials on its chronometrics went tick, tick, tick over 100 on the dial.