OK, first off, if I am stealing any thing from another, better known, bike blogger I'm sorry. His stuff is funny as shit and his words have become Xeroxed by the masses. Honestly, I think my thievery is in check as I have seen most of these words in a famous Bicycle Cartoon that I sued to read before he sold out to The Man and started charging for it. Having said that, lets precede with todays ramblings shall I.
Today I was able to escape on my 12 mile loop and was rudely forced to re-consider my status as Fastest Thing on the MUP. I came cruising around a corner, passing under a bridge next to the river that I would momentarily have to conquer to continue on my way when I saw: her. A girl. A heavilly armed girl, in a cyclely sort of way. She was a fit little thing, looking innocent, or at least benign, in her little white tank top and blond pony tail sitting on a bench, enjoying the view. There were two clues that she was not the helpless little girl that she might have otherwise been mistaken for. Firstly, there were the shorts. Cycling shorts to be specific. Not Gym or Yoga or Skort shorts, but full-on Bicycle Riding because I'm serious about ti Bike Shorts. The secondly thing was the bike that was propped up against the railing. It was a cute little white and baby-lue WSD thing. But it was serious, deadly serious. Like in a movie when the Evil Witch-Quen assumes the form of the Helpless Maiden. Just like that. I was sure to make a great show of huffing and puffing my way past her and was very friendly. I didn't want her see me as any sort of a threat or challenge. No way, no how. I escaped that encounter without loosing a single Hit Point and chug chugged over the bridge and descended into Yuppyville.
It wasn't long before i was lost in pondering the aerodynamic in-efficiency of my cycling jersey. This is due primarily tot he fact that it is not, in the strictest sense of the word a cycling jersey but a moisture-whicking t-shirt sort of affair that, being branded L.L. Bean, was designed for sitting around on the deck of your multi-million dollar Lake House in Maine and NOT, as I was using it, for Cycling. Or, it's due to the fact that it;s wrapped around 230 pounds of mush. On or the other and in any event, it was in this fog of introspection that I rounded the corner near my most favorite Train Station and I saw: Him. Just as She had struck me instantly as a danger, He struck me as an Opportunity. Wearing a polo shirt, kaki shorts and top-siders, he had his Old School Road bike, complete with milk-crate cargo-hauler and was making his way away from the train station.
My initial intention was to Suck His Wheel because I was exhausted and mostly because I had never done it before. I assumed that being a Human Being on a Bicycle, he would be fitter and faster than me. I was going to use that to my advantage and make myself into his Pace Line and take a little rest. So, as I was busily forming the plan of my non-attack in my noggin I sailed smoothly and swiftly by him on the outside. I did what? Crap. Oh no! This was exactly the kind of thing that I had hopped to avoid. I had dropped the gauntlet on a real cyclist. I was doomed. He was going to roll me and smoke me. This was not going to be good and the light was changing to red! I had to escape. I charged p to the light and looked both ways. There was no one coming either way! I punched it. I kept punching it all the way up to the next corner when I got to take a look back and realized that I had dropped him! Either than or he went the Other Way at the lights. Either way I was off the hook and Mr. Top-Siders was gone. I peddled on in bliss but about a mile later I realized what I had done! I had just competed in, and won, my first ever Cat 6 Commuter Race! I Was officially a Fred!
Today I was able to escape on my 12 mile loop and was rudely forced to re-consider my status as Fastest Thing on the MUP. I came cruising around a corner, passing under a bridge next to the river that I would momentarily have to conquer to continue on my way when I saw: her. A girl. A heavilly armed girl, in a cyclely sort of way. She was a fit little thing, looking innocent, or at least benign, in her little white tank top and blond pony tail sitting on a bench, enjoying the view. There were two clues that she was not the helpless little girl that she might have otherwise been mistaken for. Firstly, there were the shorts. Cycling shorts to be specific. Not Gym or Yoga or Skort shorts, but full-on Bicycle Riding because I'm serious about ti Bike Shorts. The secondly thing was the bike that was propped up against the railing. It was a cute little white and baby-lue WSD thing. But it was serious, deadly serious. Like in a movie when the Evil Witch-Quen assumes the form of the Helpless Maiden. Just like that. I was sure to make a great show of huffing and puffing my way past her and was very friendly. I didn't want her see me as any sort of a threat or challenge. No way, no how. I escaped that encounter without loosing a single Hit Point and chug chugged over the bridge and descended into Yuppyville.
It wasn't long before i was lost in pondering the aerodynamic in-efficiency of my cycling jersey. This is due primarily tot he fact that it is not, in the strictest sense of the word a cycling jersey but a moisture-whicking t-shirt sort of affair that, being branded L.L. Bean, was designed for sitting around on the deck of your multi-million dollar Lake House in Maine and NOT, as I was using it, for Cycling. Or, it's due to the fact that it;s wrapped around 230 pounds of mush. On or the other and in any event, it was in this fog of introspection that I rounded the corner near my most favorite Train Station and I saw: Him. Just as She had struck me instantly as a danger, He struck me as an Opportunity. Wearing a polo shirt, kaki shorts and top-siders, he had his Old School Road bike, complete with milk-crate cargo-hauler and was making his way away from the train station.
My initial intention was to Suck His Wheel because I was exhausted and mostly because I had never done it before. I assumed that being a Human Being on a Bicycle, he would be fitter and faster than me. I was going to use that to my advantage and make myself into his Pace Line and take a little rest. So, as I was busily forming the plan of my non-attack in my noggin I sailed smoothly and swiftly by him on the outside. I did what? Crap. Oh no! This was exactly the kind of thing that I had hopped to avoid. I had dropped the gauntlet on a real cyclist. I was doomed. He was going to roll me and smoke me. This was not going to be good and the light was changing to red! I had to escape. I charged p to the light and looked both ways. There was no one coming either way! I punched it. I kept punching it all the way up to the next corner when I got to take a look back and realized that I had dropped him! Either than or he went the Other Way at the lights. Either way I was off the hook and Mr. Top-Siders was gone. I peddled on in bliss but about a mile later I realized what I had done! I had just competed in, and won, my first ever Cat 6 Commuter Race! I Was officially a Fred!
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