Notice: DROPPED

By Alex Thompson

You.  You who refused to talk to me,

Dropped.

You who paced me, who turned it into a competition,

Dropped.

You who drafted me without permission, without knowing me, because you couldn’t make the pace yourself,

Dropped.

You, you with the featurless tubular calves, the six feet four of no substance,

Dropped.

You who shot out and made the light which I missed,

Dropped.

You, you who carried that momentum into a red,

Dropped.

You, who pushed me into the third lane of traffic, who veered like a dumbass,

Dropped.

You, who can’t ride with the third lane of traffic, you who doesn’t have monster legs filled with monster HULK,

Dropped.

You who didn’t make the light,

DROPPED.

I dropped you.  Get some muscles.

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6 Responses to “Notice: DROPPED”

  1. This was almost poetry.

    But maff people can’t has poetry. At least that was always my consolation in school….

    ; }

  2. They don’t want y’all to think we are creative, cause, well, that would be embarrassing.

  3. its summer already???

    lots of bad etiquette and big egos out there this year, meh
    i just slam on my brakes when i get a mystery drafter… works great.

  4. Righteous, Doc!

    I got dropped yesterday by a spandexian who I passed on Ballona Creek because he was slowpoking it while talking on his fucking cell phone. After concluding what must’ve been an all-important call he apparently took umbrage with my passing him and gunned it catching and smoking me like a salmon on approachto the Overland overpass.

    I paced him as best I could but he was stronger, lighter, faster, spandexier, younger than me on a spiff carbon fiber roadie with a nitrous booster tank and when I bonked he opened up a lead of a couple hundred yards. Trouble was he got on Duquesne going north and eased off thinking he’d taught that old singlespeedster a lesson, but I just kept on chugging and shocked the heck out of him by getting right up behind him approaching Culver, where he made a right and I waited the light and kept going up to Venice where I made a right.

    A few blocks later I pass Crank Mob Park figuring he’s long gone and I cross Culver Drive and get to the red at National where I wait. And who pulls up behind me as the light turns green but spandy himself.

    Who dropped who, buddy?

  5. Ha ha Will – better way finding FTW!!! Or maybe, despite all those perceived advantages, he was actually beat tired and concealing it? I know that in my old days on the Track team when doing hard workouts or racing we distance runners would do our best not to appear fatigued so as not to give the opposition an impression of weakness.

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    [...] metaphorically beats his chest after dropping another rider. Will pays his dues for rolling through a stop sign, and gets a [...]

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