Monday, August 8, 2011

Day Riders....

Found this little gem over at Ritte Van Vlaanderen (highly suggest checking them out, there a riot) , anyway, I guess its a blog written by one of their riders. Its called Il Chat Del Giorno, I have only read this post, but its a little gold mine so far...
I thought it was a funny read and I think you all will relate. Don't know why you read this blog if you don't. 

For most amateur racing cyclists battles are won and lost in the wee hours of the morning. When the sun is still coaxing the sleep from your eyes, baking the pavement beneath your wheels and painting the buildings in its warming glow. However, there is a sub genre of riders roaming the streets out there. Carefree individuals whose skin shows the rich tan of hours spent outside at prime hours. Those cyclists who walk out the front door to start their ride well after Kathie Lee and Hoda have drained their second bottle of Rombauer on Good Morning America. The lucky few who stop for lunch instead of coffee in the middle of the day… on a Tuesday. I speak of course of the Day Riders. Day Riders spend most of their time in the saddle between the hours of 11am and 5pm on weekdays. Those mystical hours when most of the general population is toiling away in the office interspersing requests for TPS reports with frantic glimpses at cycling websites. Riding a bike during the afternoon on weekdays is a unique experience in itself, akin to seeing your teacher in 5th grade at a liquor store; you just didn’t know they actually ever left the school grounds. It’s a more relaxed time to ride, with less traffic and fewer riders you begin to feel as if you’re part of an elite club of sorts where membership is paid for in the outlandishness of how one is able to pull all this off in the first place. In my experience the back story of the day rider is often the most impressive aspect of the enterprise
Me: So what do you do?
Day Rider: Oh I sold a company I started awhile back.
Me: Would I know the company?
Day Rider: I dunno you every wipe your own ass?
Me: Uh… I don’t exactly talk about… I mean, yea I do that.
Day Rider: You’re welcome.
Me: Sorry?
Day Rider: You know the springs inside of the toilet paper skewer that allow you to pop the roll into the holder with the greatest of ease? Yea that was me. So again, you’re welcome.
Me: … thanks.
Or there’s the uncomfortably tan rider who never wears a helmet, hails from somewhere in Europe and to this day I’m not sure exactly what he does.
Me: Oh dang, did you see that Lamborghini just pass us? Man what it would be like to drive one of those huh?
Tan Man: Oh… yea. I mean, sure ya know, Lamborghini. I mean, you do know they started as a farm equipment manufacturer don’t you?
Me: I didn’t know that but are you saying you wouldn’t want one?
Tan Man: Rear window visibility is sub par on them.
Me: You’ve owned one haven’t you?
Tan Man: Hold on Laetitea Casta just texted me…
The nonchalance inherent in the Day Rider is surpassed only by the fantastically outrageous circumstances they find themselves in on a regular basis. Void of pretentiousness and jealousy the Day Rider enjoys activities that would send a “normal” rider reeling with giddiness
Me: What’d you get into this weekend?
Day Rider: Oh well grabbed a chopper with a buddy up to the altitude training camp with HTC. Did some pace work with Bernie Eisel and Renshaw, introduced Stapleton to my private chef, got a Specialized Venge for free, burned $100 bills and brushed my teeth with diamond paste…. what’d you do?
Me: Exhausted my McDonalds gift card on a Big Mac meal.
Day Rider: What’s a gift card?
The Day Rider enjoys life on the road with unique frivolity and a passionate pursuit of leisure. Basking in the desolate escape that is the post lunch lull, face upturned to the solar rays of rejuvenation, legs content in the absence of the pre-dawn chill the Day Rider allows a subtle smile to wash over his face. The PROness of putting in 120 kms at noon is usurped only by the security of earning 3.5% interest on a couple million residing in an untraceable Swiss bank account.  Now if you’ll excuse me I have a fitting to make for a new albino baby seal three piece suit.

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