Tips In Pocket, Please...

You know how your faster, steady riders mysteriously gather wheel suckers to them along the regions river trails? Sure you do, because it has happened to you, at one time or another. I, myself am moderately fast (but lack a killer jump) and extremely steady, two qualities that just do not translate well on the race course but are, apparently very handy, as others seem to have recently discovered, on the river bike paths. I don't point this out because it is some kind of revelation, it isn't; I have long had friends, acquaintances, and peloton smart-alecks say they appreciate following my wheel. This is not due to my ability to bust clear and lead them to victory mind you. No, it is simply and regretably, the ease with which they can follow and hold that wheel without being dropped.

never mind the fraying seams, i need a jersey that looks something like this

You see, lacking the ability to make that surprisingly sudden, big-gap inducing acceleration, while at the same time being able to grind out distance at mind-numbingly steady pace, has long made my rear wheel attractive to followers, cycling hanger's-on. When I discovered a couple of those suckers who had slipped into my wake the other day, I began to think this just might be my ticket to, if not wealth and fortune, at least some spare change. The proverbial ship with its cargo of far-fetched ideas for making a living from racing sailed by without a second glance years ago. The plethora of abandoned, or moribund, cycling blogs are all the evidence you need to know that this little bit of writing will pay neither rent, nor mortgage, nor those put-your-kid-through-universty fees which, like the rising sun, are growing larger out there on the horizon. However, there may just be a way to make a little pocket money out of this two-wheeled adventure yet. With that I give you the "bike path tow".

Yes my friends, and soon to be friends, I will cruise the bike path, the San Gabriel River Trail. I will ride up and down, hundreds of miles and hours a day. I will chase down those riders struggling their way to the beach in that fearsome headwind, as well as the sunburned, sandy souls headed the other way in the evening twilight. With a snap of my fingers and a point to my rear wheel you will know me, the bike path tow at your service. All you need to do is grab that rear wheel as it rolls by and fall in line; I will do the bulk of the work, you will arrive at your destination that much fresher.

Time and again, or every so often, which ever is less frequent, you will read about a rider pedaling along, minding his own pace who, upon hearing a click of gears, turns around only to be unpleasantly surprised by the sight of another rider casually, and all too closely for comfort, tucked into his slipstream. As disconcerting as it might be to discover that (1) someone from out of nowhere had chased you down, and (2) that someone might actually consider your wheel to be one worth following, the bike path tow is a means of alleviating this scourge of the river trail. No longer will riders be bothered to the point of frenzy by those sneaky sneaks stealing up behind to benefit from hard made efforts. No longer will riders be forced to pick up the pace in order to drop that unwanted baggage. As beneficial as that may be for the training, the fitness (which after all is why you are out there going so fast, or long, to begin with) it can become demoralizing, if not embarrassing, when that dead weight just won't drop.

You know the scenario, a mile up from the coast, cruising at an easy 20 mph with that nice tailwind and a belly full of burrito. All of a sudden, what the..., you realize there is someone right behind you. "Alright, buddy, lets add a couple mph and see what happens." Still there. "Come on legs, give me another mph." Still there, gall darn it. "Alright then, lets see how long you can keep this up." Still there. "Come on legs, don't fail me now." Still there. "Why did I have to eat that whole burrito." Still there. "Who the heck is this guy anyway?" Still there. "Maybe I will just slow it down a bit now." Still ... wait, he's gone. " I knew it, and here I was, only going at 80% max (sucker actually had reached his turn-off). If I had really wanted to, he would have been gone miles back."

I must confess that most of my plagues of wheel suckers have been of the appreciative variety, the kind who say "thanks for the pull" upon reaching their destinations and, while that may be gratifying at some level, a few thanks-giving dollars would be even better - tips in pocket please - seems like a fair compensation.