Wednesday, 10 December 2008

An American Cyclist in Cornwall

Last weekend I had a chance meeting with a yank called Eric,
(although he might have been a Canuck, either way i've just insulted him!)

We chewed the fat as they say, about bikes and stuff. Then he started asking about routes to ride, but he called them rowts or something. Whilst he was standing there all merino'd up, he asked about suitable rowts for his cross bike to ride. I shared my knowledge, and at the end of the conversation Eric stated how much he "loved to roll on his crosser", as though he is somekind of merino wool pedalling pimp G from the hood.

Later on that day, I was doing my constitutional walk around Penzance, much akin to that scene in Alfie, y'know everyone letting on, cheerily shouting my name as I skip nonchalantly across the streets, i spotted an intresting bicycle leaned against the window of one of VeloCakes frequented haunts. As I continued to note the bicycle, (Soma cross bike, steel green) Eric was inside drinking espresso.

But i have a thought. If, in an ideal world all cyclists would be cool and niche, natch. what would happen. Do we need to have all the clueless half wits who hang around the cycling world like geeks at a convention (or the York rally). I guess so, just so the rest of us look good.

Pffft this Carrie Bradshaw shit is easy!

1 comment:

bikemonkey83 said...

You're nearly as irritating as her already.

She has a face like a foot though