I was riding on my lunch hour-or-so last week when my buddy Phil pedaled up next to me. “What’re you doing way out here?” I asked, knowing that he works in another town and wouldn’t have time to ride this far on his lunch break.

“I got laid off this morning,” Phil said. “Fifty jobs gone -- outsourced to China.” Meanwhile, the president of the holding company that owns Phil’s company got paid -- I hesitate to say “earned” -- $46 million last year.

Whoa. You could buy, oh, 4,600 gold-plated Colnagos with his paycheck. That’s a new Colnago every day for 12 years. “Dang, got a speck of dirt on my chain. Time for a fresh bike.”

Sure seems like a lot of money to pay a guy who can’t do something really important like dunk a basketball. Then again, I got a C in Economics 101. And promptly switched my major to philosophy, which is another strike against me.

But back to Phil. The reason I’m not worried about him is that as soon as bad news struck, he got on his bike. Forget paying $150 an hour to lie on a couch and talk to a stranger about strangling your mother. The best therapy comes on two wheels.

When I got laid off, first thing I did was go for a ride. When I got laid off again two years later, I tucked my pink slip in my jersey pocket and hit the road. Downsize this, you miserable bean counters.

My non-cycling friends say, “How could you go for a ride at a time like that?”

To which I say, “How could I not go for a ride at a time like that?”