Untitled by lavagal at Garmin Connect – Details.
Some rides are better than others. Late start. John got a flat by Kamilioiki School. I got discouraged. We came home, reloaded the tire-fixing supplies and hit the road again, this time to Kapiolani Park. The second ride was much smoother, without event, although I was nearly grazed by an idiot on a moped in the bike lane and an old lady who seems to think said bike lane is actually where half her car belonged. Although she was crawling, she was too fast for me to punch her trunk. Nah. I only did it in my mind. Wind was a biotch.
Then three dudes passed us on Kalanianaole Highway. Two in safety yellow. One all dolled up in Italian duds, little bicycle hat, and covered with tats. All of a sudden, I was riding alone as John joined the mini peloton. He said they had nothing. Hah! He ALWAYS says I’M competitive. Sure I am. I OWN IT. He should, too. Buahahahahaaaa! Later he said pretty boy smelled like patchouli. Cringe!
I hope tomorrow is a better ride. I’ll ride alone, like the Calnago cyclist.
it wasn’t so much the first puncture, it was the tube i replaced it with immediately failing that ticked me off. my fault for a) buying that brand of tube b) keeping it in inventory that long. but i didn’t want to ride with no spares, so had to restock the seat bag and put a couple more co2s in the arsenal.
as for the yellow spuds, they only passed me because they chose to blow through a red light that i stopped for. there i go again, playing by the rules. i didn’t even have to work hard to catch them. they were all upper body and spinning a little gear going nowhere. had to sit up and freewheel to not overtake them. stop and smell the patchouli. aargh. mister lotsa-tatts, however, had more biscuits in the barrel. he was gone in short order.
Tats make the cyclist, especially ironic as hell knuckle tats. A righteous beard helps too. Now, what’s all this then, about ‘freewheeling’?
mr. lotsa-tatts was one of those illustrated dudes. tatt sleeves and gawd knows what else. he probably had a slogan on his … oh, never mind. the yellow-jerseyed roadies were as tatt-free as the day they entered officer candidate school. and they had nothing! nothing!