This is a cautionary tale! How far into cycling can you get before you pass through the Membrane of Beatitude and become a tool in "team kit" racing a mountain bike on the most-populated MUP in the United States? We should look for the warning signs! Just today, I was thinking that I'd like to know just how fast I'm going up First Avenue, as I pass or run alongside the taxicabs. Now, after reading this, I'm not so interested. I'm convinced that the cyclocomputer is the gateway drug to tooldom. Computer users, beware.
As for the tractor, I know that guy. Shortly after your "race," fmw, the guy had a nervous breakdown. Now he sits on a bench in front of city hall, whittling a replica of an Easton carbon fork and muttering, "Wattage, wattage, wattage...." Sometimes I give him the half of the sandwich I didn't finish. He is a shell of a man.