Here is what he felt:

A different kind of Cadence. Tonight a new pedal feel. High gear to low gear, shifting left and right uphill and downhill. More resistance than usual, but clearly enough. (whew!) The feeling of resistance against the pavement when transferred from feet to legs was intoxicating. Like solving a math problem; perfect cadence is plug-in and go, precise and rhythmic. You know when you have it right.

And now the evening divulges at Lestats, the local coffee house, except…there is no power. Total blackout. A return to the dark ages. Candlelight. An hour of romance behind the darkened screen of a silicon computer. No action. Just the sweet jazz and faces concentrated, fascinated by the tiny, eternal flames from lamps emitted by tea lights on the tables. Eerie, beautiful silence. Not unlike the silence of slipping through dark city streets on the heels of speed, that new cadence.