My wife is my best friend, there’s no question. On the other hand, in the last seven years or so, I’ve spent a lot of hours on the road with my buddy, Mike. He and I are cyclists cut from the same cloth, and it shows when we ride together. We have a lot of fun.
Mike and I are the cycling equivalent of Goose and Maverick in Top Gun. We’ll ride without the other. We won’t like it as much, but we’d do it.
Three weeks ago, he broke his ass when our group was hit by a deer. According to what I’ve heard, because I was up front and missed everything, I didn’t know how he could have possibly fallen hard enough to break his sacrum (just above the tailbone)… He went over the back of the bike and landed on his ass. At that old fart’s age, being as brittle as old farts tend to be, it makes sense, falling from that height.
He started riding, gingerly, after three weeks on the couch, the beginning of the week. He rode with our small group Friday morning, then again yesterday. We did 38 miles on Friday with an average of 18.8-mph. Yesterday’s ride was 42 miles at 18. My buddy is back.
I had a good time riding without him, but I didn’t like it as much. Having him back, cycling is better. Even if he is a dinosaur. At least he’s a fast dinosaur.