R
Ryan Cousineau
Guest
No, I didn't witness a car smashing into a parked car as it tried to pursue me, but I did save some
money on my car insurance!
Today seems to be the official day of cyclists coming out of hibernation. On my ride home I caught
not one but two roadies out for a roll. The first was a gent a bit older than me on a Cunningham
(custom road bike made somewhere locally) who paced me all the way up a long, shallow climb. On one
hand, impressive, because I'm climbing a lot better these days. On the other hand, I was packing a
lunchbox and saddlebag (mostly full of bike tools and clothing) and he was not. We were both happy
to cane each other for a couple km at a painful but not breakaway pace.
Next up, I outran a dump truck from a standing start, by a lot. He never caught me, despite the road
being a nominal 50 km/h four-lane commuter chute with a slight rise for the first few hundred
metres. I think he was still behind me when I got home, a few km later.
The second roadie was a young woman with tri-bars, doing some suffering up a slight grade. She was
probably coming from downtown or something. Having seen her well ahead of me, I cheated a bit by
slightly drafting a bus (bad Ryan...) until I caught her, and kept going. By then my legs were
feeling the effort, so I just stayed ahead of her for a few blocks before I had to turn for home.
My deep and wacky competitive instincts don't let me see other cyclists without wanting to catch
them. This was supposed to be an easy ride home, and for the first half of the commute, it was. And
then, you know, I saw a cyclist.
Keep in mind I did this work on my deliciously ratty Bianchi, complete with non-matching fork, rack,
and in my dorky orange "commuter jersey" (just a synthetic long-sleeve shirt I bought at the thrift
store). Now I know how it feels to be my old arch-nemesis, Camo-pants guy with the old rigid GT
mountain bike.
--
Ryan Cousineau, [email protected] http://www.sfu.ca/~rcousine President, Fabrizio Mazzoleni Fan Club
money on my car insurance!
Today seems to be the official day of cyclists coming out of hibernation. On my ride home I caught
not one but two roadies out for a roll. The first was a gent a bit older than me on a Cunningham
(custom road bike made somewhere locally) who paced me all the way up a long, shallow climb. On one
hand, impressive, because I'm climbing a lot better these days. On the other hand, I was packing a
lunchbox and saddlebag (mostly full of bike tools and clothing) and he was not. We were both happy
to cane each other for a couple km at a painful but not breakaway pace.
Next up, I outran a dump truck from a standing start, by a lot. He never caught me, despite the road
being a nominal 50 km/h four-lane commuter chute with a slight rise for the first few hundred
metres. I think he was still behind me when I got home, a few km later.
The second roadie was a young woman with tri-bars, doing some suffering up a slight grade. She was
probably coming from downtown or something. Having seen her well ahead of me, I cheated a bit by
slightly drafting a bus (bad Ryan...) until I caught her, and kept going. By then my legs were
feeling the effort, so I just stayed ahead of her for a few blocks before I had to turn for home.
My deep and wacky competitive instincts don't let me see other cyclists without wanting to catch
them. This was supposed to be an easy ride home, and for the first half of the commute, it was. And
then, you know, I saw a cyclist.
Keep in mind I did this work on my deliciously ratty Bianchi, complete with non-matching fork, rack,
and in my dorky orange "commuter jersey" (just a synthetic long-sleeve shirt I bought at the thrift
store). Now I know how it feels to be my old arch-nemesis, Camo-pants guy with the old rigid GT
mountain bike.
--
Ryan Cousineau, [email protected] http://www.sfu.ca/~rcousine President, Fabrizio Mazzoleni Fan Club