One of the Tribe

Met someone from my tribe today; John was from Wales.  “I have two weeks to bugger around,” he said.

John

Both of us commiserated about the hills and the heat.  “At least you have a tailwind,” I said.  “I don’t have a tailwind,” John quickly countered.  Then he said like a pirate, “Arrrrgh! The blood crosswind must have her hooks in both of us!”

John had a unique bicycling fashion style which was not at all similar to my fluorescent, wick-away spandex.  He gravitated toward the more casual plaid shirt with easy access ventilation up front.  While his attire did not appear to breath too well, I tried not to look too closely.

With the sun beating down on both of us and softening a patch of tar at my feet, John said he was having a good time, and he was off.

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