As we rolled along I continued to both apologize and thank George for going slow with me.
“Naw man, it’s not a problem. You keep a fairly even pace. No surges. And you’re not one of those half-a-wheel guys. So it’s cool.”
“Half-a-wheel guys, what are they?”
“Half-a-wheel guys are those dudes who can’t merely ride with you. They need to stay half a wheel ahead of you at all times. When you try to ride with them, they keep pushing the pace. They need to be ahead. They need to dominate. They ruin the ride for everyone.”
Cool. I’m not a half a wheel dude.
A couple of nights later, I was still recovering from the ride. I met up with an old bud. We hadn’t hung out in a while. He had a couple of beers with dinner. We decided it would be fun to go for a bit of a walk and find another place for him to have a beer.
Away we went.
And if he had a bike, he would have stayed half a wheel ahead of me.
But he didn’t have a bike. So he stayed half a stride ahead of me. I tried catching up. He sped up more.
On…
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