J i m s t e r
Senior Retro Guru
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On the way to work this morning, climbing up the steepest part, roadie comes past me downhill in the other lane of the cycle path. I nod to him, because it's brass monkeys outside, and there have been few other commuters daft enough to brave it all morning.
Clocking my lack of lycra and the fact I'm on an "Old moutain bike" (bought from here), he ROLLS HIS EYES at me in disdain; like "How dare you consider yourself a cyclist pushing that?"
Listen mate, let me break it down for you. What you might find easy compared to your daily Ventoux-esque epic jollies, I find somewhat harder. I am 42 and 15 stone - It's sapping enough for me to push a mountainbike on Big Apples up that f*cking hill without some pencil-thin humourless clown in shoes that cost more than my bike metaphorically spitting in my face.
I bet he'd be sacked from teaching blind kids because he kept giving out "F"s for handwriting.
LOL, I feel better for getting that off me chest already.
Clocking my lack of lycra and the fact I'm on an "Old moutain bike" (bought from here), he ROLLS HIS EYES at me in disdain; like "How dare you consider yourself a cyclist pushing that?"
Listen mate, let me break it down for you. What you might find easy compared to your daily Ventoux-esque epic jollies, I find somewhat harder. I am 42 and 15 stone - It's sapping enough for me to push a mountainbike on Big Apples up that f*cking hill without some pencil-thin humourless clown in shoes that cost more than my bike metaphorically spitting in my face.
I bet he'd be sacked from teaching blind kids because he kept giving out "F"s for handwriting.
LOL, I feel better for getting that off me chest already.