Tales from the road

This post offers brief analysis and anecdotes on my experiences and observations cycling over the past few months

It can be tough striking the right balance with what to wear; wear too much and you overheat and sweat, too little and you’ll catch a cold. I like to dress down when cycling, as body heat tends to start warming up after 10 minutes. I’m not talking about simply opting for fewer layers and lighter garments, I’m talking about wearing nothing but a helmet, boots, florescent vest and cock warmer. Please take a moment to imagine me cycling, wearing nothing but a florescent vest, helmet and cock warmer.

Now, the obvious problem here is, the cock warmer tends to fall off if I’m not aroused. Rather than fumbling around getting it in place while cycling, I prefer to simply keep myself aroused. I don’t mean by pleasuring myself or anything like that (that’d be inappropriate), I mean by looking out for attractive woman when I’m cycling. When I spot one, I slow down, look at her really intensely, until such time as I’m aroused and cock warmer is affixed, then cycle off.

Just re-reading the first few paragraphs… shit, where do I come up with this stuff. Cock warmer? Back to serious analysis now: There are many other fashion statements made on the road. The cycle-junkies like to completely deck themselves out in lycra. All over. Others like to completely deck themselves out in flashing lights, so much so they look like mobile casinos. The other night I saw a guy trying to throw chips into the wheel of a moving bike, yelling ’23 black, 23 black!’.

The funniest kind of cyclist is the timid-mouse kind. They are completely overawed by the whole concept of being on a road with vehicles, and as such, are constantly looking around, giving-way, hugging the side-walk, cycling at dangerously slow speeds and giving a hand-signal for absolutely everything. They hand signal in their own driveway.

My girlfriend is not quite a timid-mouse, but she is cautious. 98.6 percent of our fights have been cycling induced. The other day, she reprimanded me while we were stopped at a red light for having over-taken another cyclist a mile back. ‘You shouldn’t have overtaken him, that was dangerous’. ‘Um, that guy was 96 years old. The only thing making him mobile is the wind and the fact we’re on a slight decline. You can politely sit behind him, not me kid, you know how I roll’. The dialogue went back and forth until I lost it ‘Ah, stuff this!’ and cycled off in a rage, turning back to say, “You cycle your way, I cycle my way, this is the way to cycle. I play, and I play hard. You wanna roll with me, you better learn to…
‘Look out you fuckwit!!’ she yelled.
I turned around to see I was heading straight into a speeding truck, forcing me to swerve to the side, straight for an oncoming cabbie, who sniffed the scent of a chance to kill a cyclist. Finally I made a crash landing onto the footpath, toppling off my bike and finishing sprawled out across the ground. An elderly lady screamed, not because of the crash, but because the commotion had left me un-aroused and caused my cock warmer to fall off, leaving me exposed. I tried to reaffix it by staring intensely at the surrounding woman. They all freaked out and called me… I don’t know, sex-pest, or something like that. In the end I just left my cock warmer and ran away.

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