My Side
I roll up to the intersection between Dorlan Mill and Creek road. It's clear except for a roadie headed my way. I pull out and spin my fixie down the road. I guess it's just simple competition, but whenever you see another cyclist on the road, you know there's going to be a fight. The first part of Creek road is pretty rough. Between the old choppy pavement and cars whizzing by you, it's not a peaceful ride. On top of that I can hear the gears of the roadie clicking as he approaches and grabs my wheel. Stripped to bear bones, the fixie spins in silence. So he's pacing me. That's cool. I'm just commuting and hauling a bunch of crap I picked up at Home Depot. I wonder what he's thinking as he's following my single geared, brake-less fat tubed rear end. Oh well. Keep a smooth cadence and pedal on.
We finally reach the newly paved area and the road flattens out a bit. I basically spin out and he comes around. "On your left" I hear as he drops a few gears (clunk, clunk, clunk) and grabs his drop bars. "Hmmm guess I'm too slow" I think to myself. I notice as he pulls away he's wearing a plane jane Pearl Izumi jersey and shorts (Nashbar must of had a sale). He's got skinny little hairy legs too. The jerk in me gets a little fired up. I also notice he's pushing pretty hard. His body language shows lots of inefficient effort. He's struggling to pull ahead and stay there. I move in for the kill. It's always easier to chase then lead, so I settle in to pacing him. I keep a few bike lengths sdistance waiting for the right moment. Sure enough his effort is short winded. His hands come off the drops and his pace slows. Using the excuse I can't coast, I pedal up beside him and say "Now I'm on your left." He smiles as I go around in reprimanding style.
I pedal down the road keeping my pace. Through a few rollers I keep seated trying to make it look easy - keep my body language smooth. Before I turn off, I look back. He dropped off a bit. His hands are on the top of his bars as he holds steady to a more comfortable pace.
-b
We finally reach the newly paved area and the road flattens out a bit. I basically spin out and he comes around. "On your left" I hear as he drops a few gears (clunk, clunk, clunk) and grabs his drop bars. "Hmmm guess I'm too slow" I think to myself. I notice as he pulls away he's wearing a plane jane Pearl Izumi jersey and shorts (Nashbar must of had a sale). He's got skinny little hairy legs too. The jerk in me gets a little fired up. I also notice he's pushing pretty hard. His body language shows lots of inefficient effort. He's struggling to pull ahead and stay there. I move in for the kill. It's always easier to chase then lead, so I settle in to pacing him. I keep a few bike lengths sdistance waiting for the right moment. Sure enough his effort is short winded. His hands come off the drops and his pace slows. Using the excuse I can't coast, I pedal up beside him and say "Now I'm on your left." He smiles as I go around in reprimanding style.
I pedal down the road keeping my pace. Through a few rollers I keep seated trying to make it look easy - keep my body language smooth. Before I turn off, I look back. He dropped off a bit. His hands are on the top of his bars as he holds steady to a more comfortable pace.
-b
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