Is That One Word or Two?
There are times when you just have to take advantage of an opportunity. Sometimes you just might even learn something. I certainly did.
Sunday fast rides are a rare bird. It is a mixed crowd, there are usually a couple of veterans, some hammerheads and everyone who thinks they are, or wants to be, a racer. I have been all of the above at one time or another and will continue to defy categorization as long as I can.
The ride starts out passive, everyone more or less behaving, until we get some room. Then a couple of vets or hammerheads pick up the pace a little and things begin to get interesting. Somewhere along the way a couple of youngsters will try to break away and usually get chased down. There are days when the big dogs decide to break things open and leave a trail of destruction, blown legs and shattered egos in their wake. Worse is when the vets are in good form and decide to play.
Sunday last was like that. The old guys came out to play. One little guy in red took off after a breakaway and sort of busted everything up. The wannabe riders started falling off the back and the pace picked up. The other two vets were not about to be left out and joined in the play. Every newbie with a Cat5 tattoo was chased down and not allowed to rest. You had to be prepared to jump to grab a passing wheel when you came off the front. The line you were leaving might not be the one heading to the front.
Towards the end of the run things started splitting up. The three old guys were heading home early, making a right turn and the rest of the group was breaking up into a wild mass sprint. The pace was somewhere in the high 20’s and spirited. I looked over my right shoulder and saw someone coming up on the wrong side. This rider, I will call him ”Paco” to protect the innocent, has a habit of not working on the way out and then jumping whoever has been doing the work. His MO also includes coming up on the wrong side. I saw a little more than a bike length of space in front of him and moved over and blocked Paco’s lane.
This is where all the learning started. Paco learned not everything is fair and I learned a lot of new Spanish words. It was a good tactical maneuver and fairly well executed if I say so myself. I am not sure what Paco said to me, it was the longest and loudest he has ever spoken to me, but I am pretty sure “Pinchegringo” is two words.
Sunday fast rides are a rare bird. It is a mixed crowd, there are usually a couple of veterans, some hammerheads and everyone who thinks they are, or wants to be, a racer. I have been all of the above at one time or another and will continue to defy categorization as long as I can.
The ride starts out passive, everyone more or less behaving, until we get some room. Then a couple of vets or hammerheads pick up the pace a little and things begin to get interesting. Somewhere along the way a couple of youngsters will try to break away and usually get chased down. There are days when the big dogs decide to break things open and leave a trail of destruction, blown legs and shattered egos in their wake. Worse is when the vets are in good form and decide to play.
Sunday last was like that. The old guys came out to play. One little guy in red took off after a breakaway and sort of busted everything up. The wannabe riders started falling off the back and the pace picked up. The other two vets were not about to be left out and joined in the play. Every newbie with a Cat5 tattoo was chased down and not allowed to rest. You had to be prepared to jump to grab a passing wheel when you came off the front. The line you were leaving might not be the one heading to the front.
Towards the end of the run things started splitting up. The three old guys were heading home early, making a right turn and the rest of the group was breaking up into a wild mass sprint. The pace was somewhere in the high 20’s and spirited. I looked over my right shoulder and saw someone coming up on the wrong side. This rider, I will call him ”Paco” to protect the innocent, has a habit of not working on the way out and then jumping whoever has been doing the work. His MO also includes coming up on the wrong side. I saw a little more than a bike length of space in front of him and moved over and blocked Paco’s lane.
This is where all the learning started. Paco learned not everything is fair and I learned a lot of new Spanish words. It was a good tactical maneuver and fairly well executed if I say so myself. I am not sure what Paco said to me, it was the longest and loudest he has ever spoken to me, but I am pretty sure “Pinchegringo” is two words.
posted by Speedo at 4:44 PM
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