Yesterday I bought the kids used bikes off of Craigslist (and of course it rained on them last night). Now I have to get helmets and training wheels. My bike is in the shop too. I also had the pleasure of the second installment of Dr. Dustin Shin’s (DDS) second installment of my latest root canal. Jheesh, not only did it hurt, a lot, but after the second shot of Novocaine I was numb from my forehead to my throat. You could have pierced my ear without my noticing.
Here’s the latest installment. I tried to use some dialog with an accent, not my strong suit, let me know how it sounded. If you ride, formally, with clubs and packs check this for realism and send me a line. And of course, if you want to start from the beginning, go here.
When they were all chatting for a few minutes, planning their next rides and strategies for upcoming races around the fountain at 90th Street Frantz gave mike some credit “you vere vailing up de hill after the Lasker Pool the last three laps. Man, how you keep us going up hill iss great.” Wiping the half expelled snot off of his nose on the back of his team-logo glove he continued “how do you pull so hard up a hill after leading us for two miles?”
“I guess I just got a spotted jersey in my heart,” Mike, embarrassed but proud, clipped out in his Queens accent. “of course you know that I climb the bridge to get here every morning, and I climb it again to get back afterwards.” Thinking, “that’s gotta be 130 feet of climbing each way, with no traffic and it’s pretty steep, I dunno, I guess a 4% grade going back to Queens.” Mike stared off across the lake thinking about the Spanish guy on the delivery bike who passed him with a basket like he was standing still. He thought that he must have been taking it easy, and his damaged pride probably fueled him up the hills in the park today.
Frantz noticed his wistfulness in Mike’s stare amid the chatting, bragging and prancing of the pack there before 6 in the morning. They had had a good ride, beaten their usual times by a lot, and the pack was feeling good, tearing apart the ride lap-by-lap, climb-by-climb and according to each transition from leader to leader. Mike usually enjoyed this red meat and busted chops with the guys, but could only think about the knobby tires on the bouncing bike that had beaten him earlier. It seemed impossible that someone without toe-clips, in jeans, a cheap leather jacket and on a bike built by Chinese slave labor could have passed him where he was usually strongest.
“Vhat gives Mikee?” asked Frantz. “Vhy are you zo qviet, ve vouldn’t have broke our record iff you did not conquer zhe mountains vith uss hanging onto your vheel zhose lasst two laps. Zhesus, ve dropped Teddy coming up to the finissh line on the lasst lap: if there vere a fork in the road he’d be drinking by himself now” the blonde German said looking slyly at Theodore as he clipped off the light stuck to the back of his jersey. The light had, stuck between Juan Valdez and his Burro had made the bean-picker look like Diogenes looking for an honest man.