Have a look around to see who you find occupying your immediate vicinity. Presently, I am surrounded by a pleasant-seeming bunch. Some are even going so far as to appear happy or at least not displeased; all of them are pale and none of them fit. My attention is drawn, however, to a a portly mustached gentleman who strode into the hotel lobby with an enormous degree of self confidence and who as such feels justified in wearing an ill-fitting t-shirt bearing a phrase which asserts that real men wear orange. While I have no reason to disagree with the assertion, I assume he is optimistic that through wearing said t-shirt, he will be mistaken for a “real man” and is not in fact attempting to disprove the point through contrast.
I’m not picking on this gent not because I’m harboring any sense of ill-will towards him, nor for the fact that he strode into the hotel lobby carrying a twelve pack of Yuengling Black and Tan. I’m picking on him mostly because I have come to understand that “real men” are capable of crushing things like soda cans and their opponents’ Will to Live, while from the looks of it, the only thing he’s crushed lately was a ham sandwich whose remnants I’m fairly certain I spotted on the front of his bright orange t-shirt.
Surprisingly, our Orange Hero isn’t even the most disappointing case in the room I’m occupying. The guy in the camouflage, knee-long shorts and flip-flops is an example at least two degrees worse; if he harbors hopes of blending in to anything – most of all foliage – I suggest he spend some time outside to brew himself up a tan that goes beyond TV Translucent (I’m not sure what the pantone value is for that). He should also try lifting his computer some time, to build muscle mass, rather than wheeling it about in a trolly. But worst of all by a considerable gap is the skinny-fat chap with carefully disheveled hair who is presently chastising the bartender – who is serving free drinks to hotel patrons – for not having his preferred brand of vodka on hand. If this guy took half the time he spent worrying about his hair and invested it in not worrying about his free drink, he’d be three-quarters less of a douche. (My dad would call this guy a zacht gekookt ei, or soft-boiled egg.)
All this to say that as a society we have, by and large, become soft. While I want to be careful not to paint too broadly with that brush as no one is to say what hardships people have been through, on balance we seem to expect to take more and to be asked to give less in return. Our ancestors worked harder than we did, in worse conditions, for less reward but found satisfaction in a job well done and an honest day’s work. Yet today, we are overly dependent on t-shirts to send a message about who we are rather than our actions. We fill our conversations with sentiments of entitlement and rights, when in fact we are entitled to nothing and we have the right only to the things we find within ourselves.
As Cyclists, however easy our lives may be, the bicycle brings us some degree of hardship and struggle. For many of us, our easy lives are what draw us to the bicycle in pursuit of a harder life. This is, of course, in stark contrast that to the riders who came before us, the legion of Fausto Coppi, Rik van Looy, and even the comparatively well-off Eddy Merckx who chose the bicycle as a means of escape from a harder life into an easier one. But nevertheless, it sets us appart. The lessons the bicycle teaches us can be applied to the rest of our lives, and may be used to guide the uninitiated.
Our pets go untrained because we are too busy, distracted, or stressed out to show them the discipline they crave. Our children scream as our dependence on secondary care blurs the boundary between parent and friend. Society’s BMI is pushed ever upward as our appetite for a meal grows inversely with our willingness to exercise. By and large, our dependence on the material is fueled by the immaterial.
No child is too young, no adult too old. This is the time to Obey the Rules, Lead by Example, and Guide the Uninitiated. But most of all, this is the time for us to set an example and have The Talk. The Rule #5 Talk. And remember what Will Fotheringham refers to as Rule #5.b: Eddy Never Complained.
VLVV.
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BTW, note that Rik is apparently left handed.
@frank
That is gold. Solid gold. The guy has to have been called up out of bed, eh? Can't be his desired choice of attire.
Yes, true photo from Afghan from around a year ago I think. Amazing what you roll out of your bunk in when the "Big Voice" sounds off!
@The Oracle
If it is the scene I'm thinking of it was absolutely hilarious.
@Steampunk
That is AWESOME! Very nice work.
Not as awesome, but still kind of cool. Hitting town this morning after riding with a pal. In a tight stretch of the road, bus coming to end of road on our right (is that bus driver going to stop?) and a big moving truck decides to pass us on the downhill. "This doesn't make me feel good." Neither of us said anything.
A few minutes later we roll into the downtown area and as we approach an overpass we see cop cars and a big moving truck. Hmm? The guy didn't clear the overpass and had smashed the top of his truck under it, thereby wedging himself in, right in the busy part of town where there is already road construction which narrows things to one lane.
We're both pretty sure it was the same aggressive driver. NICE! Two dudes were sitting on the curb not looking very happy about life.
@frank
I've got centerpulls, and my brakes are set up front on right. I did that myself, as it always seemed to make more sense.
@eightzero
The watch?
@Ron
Last week on a ride I wa coming up to road work and the flagger had the stop sign up, this was on a downhill so I was riding my brakes and going into it slowly. Dude behind me in a stupid-big truck honks, then bolts into the other lane around me, almost hits a car coming through and pops right in front of me only to have to stop right there. When I rode through the flagger said, "Well he got really far." Made me feel much better about it.
@Steampunk
Very well played, and a perfect if unconventional illustration of the importance of patience when racing. Or as Krabbe attributes to Hennie Kuiper, racing is the art of licking your opponent's plate clean before starting on your own.
@Buck Rogers
Yes. Absolutely dispositive.
More on the point of the article, one of the things I get a huge chuckle out of is people taking the elevator for one floor. OK, if they have a cane, or a wheelchair or walker, I sort of get it. But most of the time, it is some fat fuck...with a wad of food or a venti frappachino with extra whip and spinkles in hand...and they call the elevator to go down one floor. Really.