April 26, 2010 Leave a comment
The continuing saga of the Performance HQ Wednesday night group ride, as told by Randy, our elfin warehouse maestro.
From Baker’s Dozen to Six Pack:
Under a fine mist of North Carolina’s legendary pollen, 13 P-funkers saddled up for the season’s second round of ego stroke, emasculation, and braggadocio. From the get-go, a stiff southwest wind battered the peloton, bending the lead pulls into the drops early and beguiling what seemed like a strong effort on the pedals. The mood of the mass seemed more somber this week, and I can only guess it had something to do with the sight of Peterson’s superhero muscle mass and the Unabomber stare of one Bob Eichvalds. The G-man tried to lighten the mood with a few cavalier solo attacks, often precariously straddling the center line as on-coming traffic gawked in disbelief at a 97 year old man in the hideous purple of the Donut Boy lycra kit: Read more of this post