Friday the day after the all-you-can-eat turkey day, and I agree to go for a training ride. The sun is shining and the temperature is 36, but heading to 40. Smart folks stayed inside and ate another piece of pie, I saddled up with Joe College, American Taliban, The ‘young and the restless,’ and Andy Will. Who’s name, ‘Will” I understand roughly translates in Flemish as “tough veal.”
We roll out in an easterly direction, I’m feeling fine, even though I did 2 hours with Cadillac George yesterday (before turkey, mashed potatoes, corn ‘something,’ asparagus, and pie...make that 3 pieces of pie). We talk of the recession, General Motors, Butch’s latest bike purchases, etc. Piece of cake (er, pie) this ride to Croton. After rolling through some pig shit covered roads...note to self clean bike...we turn for home. boing! Into the wind, a stiff wind (ah, that’s why the first hour was so easy) and all that easy rolling downwind sweat was now cooling me off at a fast clip. Plus, I’m really, as they say, ‘”on the rivet.,” battling a nasty block headwind.
I offer to let Andy ride away and I’ll just curl up in this culvert for a bit of hypothermia sleep, ah wonderful sleep. No, he offers to ride in front ALL THE WAY HOME! allowing me to sit on his wheel and keep the needle just below the red zone. No talk just work. Did I mention, all the way home?