Next month's ends at a brewpub! Invite your new friend, she'll have a great time!
On Fri, Jul 17, 2009 at 9:38 PM, Aaron Thomas <aaron.a.tho...@gmail.com>wrote: > > Judging by the tree trunk size of her thighs, I wouldn't be surprised > if she was on some type of juice. Can women get 'roid rage? Either > that or she's a speed skater in the off season. > > A long ride that concludes with some bratwurst at the local brew haus > sounds good. Maybe David Estes can hook that up for one of the So Cal > Riv gatherings. David, any ideas? > > On Jul 17, 8:05 pm, charlie <charles_v...@hotmail.com> wrote: > > I think what caused the rage was over training. Its clear to me that > > Grok would never have been a tri-athlete and for heavens sake, we all > > know that uber endurance training is not healthy. The effects of > > cronic over training are; grouchiness, impolite remarks, cursing like > > a sailor ( a German u-boat one) unkind gestures, paranoia, rudeness > > and a general cranky attitude. Sounds like what she needed was a month > > off and a couple of beers and some bratwurst at the local brew haus! > > I say, don't worry, be happy, cause everything is gonna to be > > alright! > > > > On Jul 15, 11:21 am, Aaron Thomas <aaron.a.tho...@gmail.com> wrote: > > > > > This may be an unconventional "ride report" for the Riv group -- I > > > have no photos to share or exotic places to describe -- but I think it > > > is a story worth telling, if only because it is so bizarre, and I > > > wonder if anyone else has had similar experiences on the road or any > > > insight into the phenomenon. > > > > > Yesterday I went on an urban ride near my apartment, a loop traveled > > > by countless cyclists simply because it is one of the few places on > > > LA's westside where you can open it up without being detained by too > > > many stoplights. The ride starts out with a gradually rising false > > > flat, which I treat as a warmup, spinning at a relaxed 18-19 mph. > > > > > I came up behind a woman crouched over the aero bars on a time trial > > > bike. I maintained a distance of 6 feet or so, waiting for a break in > > > the automobile traffic to our left in order to pass her. Before that > > > happened, however, she looked back and yelled, "are you out for a free > > > ride today, mister? Go do your own training ride!" > > > > > Perplexed, I asked her to repeat, which she did, this time peppering > > > her phrases with a few F-bombs and an injunction to stay away from her > > > because she doesn't even know me and doesn't want me drafting off her. > > > > > What? Drafting? Come again? I wasn't drafting, I explain, but rather > > > was at least 6 feet behind and waiting for a safe moment to pass. And > > > what does it matter if you don't know me? I don't get it. > > > > > More insults and F-bombs followed. And at this point she pulled to the > > > side and waved me by, cussing at me as I passed. Letting her rage get > > > the best of me, I lost my cool and returned an F-bomb or two, upping > > > the ante with that special C-word women generally don't like to hear. > > > > > With adrenaline rushing, I hammered away angrily in order to put a > > > healthy distance between myself and someone seemingly so unstable. But > > > the separation didn't last for long, as we both eventually were > > > detained by a stoplight. > > > > > As she pulled up behind me I turned around and asked, with the most > > > polite voice I could muster, what her problem was and what she thought > > > I was doing wrong. > > > > > Again she unfurled a chain of expletives. But aside from the > > > unmistakably unambiguous F-bombs she was dropping, I could not > > > entirely understand her rant through her rather thick German accent. > > > (For all I know she may have been lacing English and German together > > > into a linguistic hodgepodge of insults.) > > > > > At one point, however, I was able to make out the following: "I don't > > > want to get in an accident because you don't know how to ride a bike." > > > > > I ask her what makes her think I don't know how to ride a bike. And > > > she says, "just look at you, I can tell. And look at your bike. It's a > > > joke. You are not a serious rider, you can tell from your bike. And I > > > don't want to get in a crash because you don't know how to ride a > > > bike." And for good measure, she punctuated this assertion with a > > > couple variations on the F-bomb. Just how I would cause her to crash > > > by riding 6 feet behind her was not clear to me, nor did she succeed > > > in explaining whatever rationale she was following. > > > > > Now, mind you, neither my attire nor my Romulus are what might pass as > > > standard Rivendell equipment. I wear lycra bibs, a cycling jersey, and > > > Sidi road shoes. My bike has skinny tires, Campy Ergo shift levers, an > > > outboard bearing double crankset, a racy titanium-railed saddle, > > > Speedplay pedals, and has no fenders or luggage. To my eyes, it is a > > > road bike more than a "country bike," and if I swapped out the frame > > > for something carbon, there would be virtually no distinction between > > > my equipment and that of your typical club rider. But apparently to > > > her eyes, the fact that my frame is lugged steel and has a quill stem > > > is indication enough that it isn't a "serious" bike and I am not a > > > "serious rider." > > > > > I am certainly accustomed to gentle ribbing from the carbon crowd on > > > the club rides I go on. But their comments are more often than not > > > underhanded compliments, e.g. "if you're keeping up with us on that > > > old bucket of bolts, just imagine if you had a full carbon rig!" > > > > > But no one could mistake this triathlete's comments for a compliment, > > > underhand or otherwise. As I rode away on the green light, adrenaline > > > again rushing, a few similar encounters I've had with triathletes came > > > freshly to mind. None of the previous incidents were so abrasive or > > > abusive -- F-bombs were not lobbed. But they were unpleasant > > > encounters nonetheless, in which the triathletes went ballistic at the > > > thought that I might be drafting off them (which I never was in fact > > > doing) and commanded me to get away from them immediately. > > > > > Is there something in the triathlete's water that makes them so > > > patently nutty when it comes to sharing the road? Has anyone else > > > experienced some form of triathlete road rage? Are there any > > > triathletes on this list who can lend some perspective to what seems > > > to me to be utterly inexplicable behavior? > > > > > Aaron > > > > > > > -- Cheers, David Redlands, CA "Bicycling is a big part of the future. It has to be. There is something wrong with a society that drives a car to workout in a gym." ~Bill Nye, scientist guy --~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~ You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "RBW Owners Bunch" group. 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