The idea is that passing interest took seriously is the most heartfelt of lies and utterly despicable. It's sadly comical to see the 30 something woman with her brightly colored spandex outfit, cleated sneakers, $3000 bike, and stern looking face, walking her rig up a mild incline. As I, with jeans and a tee shirt and a rusted clunker, set to "medium" because the gears don't work ( this is not entirely true, the gears indeed change, of course, it requires stopping, flipping the bike over, and manually yanking the chain to different gears) breeze right by her and her expensive bike. You've read all the bike magazines and bought all the gear the salesman told you to, such that you look like some other brightly colored personage with funny shoes that exits a car--in bunches. You've studied the lingo, competed in the races (finished with a dreadfully slow time, but who cares it's not about the race, it's about the competition and everybody's a winner and the networking and socializing that occurs afterwards), in short you've become a hardcore O.G. biker. All I see is a wannabe with a fat ass. At some point, it must be admitted, your weight prevents you from becoming anything resembling anything athletic. Just as I never tried to run marathons when I smoked cigarettes, you should stay away from bikes and hills if you insist upon continuing to eat as much as you do. Smokers know what they're doing harms them, they're intimately aware of their own doom, they also know that they can't have it both ways--smoking and athletics just don't mix. But the fat 30 something biker is blind to this, by their own consumerism or their own foolish desire.

All this and bitter hatred at one person's denial of the obvious, circle my mind as I ride swiftly past, my baggy pant bottoms nearly getting caught in my chain, popping wheelies to show my disdain and to mark my territory. This hill is mine bitch, and I don't even care. You name the sport and I'll give you six months to read the magazines, learn the lingo and buy the gear, and I'll still kick your ass in jeans and a tee-shirt.