By Pico Tiano
Photos: Pico Triano, Jack Hawkins
I
creaked down the road at little more than a snails pace decked out in
old sweat pants, cotton t-shirt and bandana. My touring bike was
loaded down with gear, carrying my home with me. Sleeping bag, tent,
camp stove, pots, pans, dishes, clothes, first aid kit, maps, bicycle
repair tools and some food and water. My load weighed somewhere
between fifty and seventy-five pounds. I'm cycling's equivalent of a
plough horse. Plenty of strength and endurance but not much
speed.
Before I leave city limits on my first day, another bicycle approaches me from behind. This guy is on a racing bike dressed in the latest gear. Black cycling tights, multi coloured lycra jersey, clip on cycling shoes and back in that time that stupid looking little Tour de France cycling cap (on backwards of course).
It isn't the fact that he passed me that I found amusing, it's how he passed me. No he doesn't just blow on by. He first tucks right up behind my rear wheel and starts drafting. He waits for that perfect moment. It was early in the morning and there was no traffic so he wasn't waiting for that. Maybe he was waiting for that moment of weakness he sensed in me.
After drafting me for a block or so he suddenly whips out and put on a burst of speed. He passed triumphantly. Doesn't look at me, never mind say good morning or even a brief nod of acknowledgement. What can I say the man is faster than me... So what! I get passed by people's grandmother on level ground. Passing me is no great feat.
If you thought that was even a little bit funny. Forty miles down the road or so, I picked up another one just like him. Did exactly the same thing. Then before supper after I was closing in on ninety miles a third guy came along. I'm glad I was able to make their day. Maybe they were real racers just practicing their passing technique...somehow I doubt it. Incidentally on tour I ran into riders like this regularly. This was just one day.
Before I leave city limits on my first day, another bicycle approaches me from behind. This guy is on a racing bike dressed in the latest gear. Black cycling tights, multi coloured lycra jersey, clip on cycling shoes and back in that time that stupid looking little Tour de France cycling cap (on backwards of course).
It isn't the fact that he passed me that I found amusing, it's how he passed me. No he doesn't just blow on by. He first tucks right up behind my rear wheel and starts drafting. He waits for that perfect moment. It was early in the morning and there was no traffic so he wasn't waiting for that. Maybe he was waiting for that moment of weakness he sensed in me.
After drafting me for a block or so he suddenly whips out and put on a burst of speed. He passed triumphantly. Doesn't look at me, never mind say good morning or even a brief nod of acknowledgement. What can I say the man is faster than me... So what! I get passed by people's grandmother on level ground. Passing me is no great feat.
If you thought that was even a little bit funny. Forty miles down the road or so, I picked up another one just like him. Did exactly the same thing. Then before supper after I was closing in on ninety miles a third guy came along. I'm glad I was able to make their day. Maybe they were real racers just practicing their passing technique...somehow I doubt it. Incidentally on tour I ran into riders like this regularly. This was just one day.
More Humour From Pico (Photos and titles are clickable links)
Wardrobe faux pas. Didn't realize what I might look like to the rest of the world.
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