Fun on a single speed

Warning!  This post contains flights of fantasy, delusions of grandeur and strong profanity (words like damn and hell).

Thursday, I raced home from work, changed into my kit and hit the road on the single speed.  That’s the bike I grab when I just want to go out and have fun.  The plan was to just cruise along various bike paths and get in a solid 90-minutes of riding so I could justify having pizza for dinner.  As an added bonus, it was a beautiful warm evening, which felt wonderful.  It seems that summer is finally arriving to Northern California.

To be honest, the ride started out in a frustrating way.  I caught every light between my house and the bike path yellow.  However, I told myself to forget about it and soon I was rolling along and enjoying the ride.  Then my phone rang.  I take a look and the number is blocked.  This means it’s Sherry calling about the pizza or Carmen calling about Steven Cozza’s Giro Bello Classic.  (BTW – If your a cyclist living in the San Francisco Bay Area, you really should come out for this ride.)  Both are important so I answer it.  It was Carmen.

I’m now rolling down the path and trying to carry on a conversation with Carmen.  It was me talking and her hearing a bunch of wind (feel free to enter snide remark here).  Remember, I’m on the bike path so occasionally Carmen here’s me shout “on your left!” as I pass people along the way.  Then I hear “on your left” from behind me.  What?  I’m being passed.  That’s right!  A guy in a full kit and a very smug look on his face passes me.  I immediately start to chide Carmen with phrases like “see what’ve done, you’re making me get passed”.

Finally, Carmen gives up on trying to hear me and tells me to enjoy my ride.   As I put the phone away I noticed that on-your-left guy isn’t that far ahead so I decided his smugness needed a lesson in getting dropped.  I reach down to shift into the big ring and . . . wait, I don’t have a big ring because I’m on the single speed.  Even better.  Now, I plan to drop his ass on a single speed.

I come out of the saddle and start to hammer.  As a result, I am gaining quickly and thinking to myself how great this is going to feel.  As I get a little closer, I notice he is in his big ring, which is just perfect.  Then he sees me and accelerates.  Damn!  It doesn’t matter because come hell or high water I’m dropping this dude.  I push harder and can see he’s starting to fade.  As I get ready to pass, I’m afraid I’m going to fast.  After all, I want him to see it’s me and not just a blur of color flashing by.  I need to pass him with enough speed to raise my testosterone level and his estrogen level.  I shout “On, Your, Left” in my smuggest voice and blow past him without even a glance in his direction.  About a minute later I look back and he’s gone.  I can only imagine he’s sitting on a rock by the creek posting his bike on Craig’s List or calling his wife to come give him a ride home.

At least that’s how the whole scenario played out in my mind.  In reality, he turned and went a different direction right after my call with Carmen.  That’s was good because I needed an excuse as to why I didn’t have to chase him down. 

Of course, if he hadn’t turned then that whole drop scenario would have totally happened.  And, since we’ll never know, I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.

I told you riding the single speed was fun.

Ciao!