Sweaty guys in tights
 

A little amusing tale for you guys...

Last Saturday, it had been raining most of the morning and, though it had cleared, the weather threatened freezing rain. Hardly optimal cycling conditions. My main cycling buddy [Henry] and I decided that, in lieu of a ride, we'd go trail running on Mount Royal.

Some background might be appropriate at this point. Mount Royal is a park on the small mountain in the middle of the city of Monteal, from which the city [Mont Real] takes its name. The park was designed by Frederck Law Olmstead, and is considered by many to be his greatest achievement. It is part-lanscaped, but still very much wild, with some great trails for running, hiking and cross-country skiing.

It is also a popular cruising area for the local gay community.

Henry and I had a great run, and on the way back, he was talking about a new saddle he'd tried and how it had different pressure points than his old saddle. So I asked him what he was using to lube his butt/chamois...

To really understand this scene, you have to imagine two sweaty guys emerging from the woods on Mount Royal, walking into the parking lot, wearing tights and talking about what they use to lube their butts. A couple of beefy guys and their girlfriends were emerging from their car at that moment and overheard the tail end of our conversation... Should've seen the look we got when I put my hand on Henry's shoulder to balance myself while I stretched a quad.

If looks could kill...

Not that there's anything wrong with that.... :)

Velocipedio, you are so funny tonight...

Maybe you should give the looks you were getting some thought to see if there was any hidden meaning there. I mean, you know what they say about homophobes, right? These 'beefy' guys might have been trying out a subtle come-on.

This story reminds me of another similar area-an off-road trial we sometimes take. It's a fire road that runs parallel to a popular cyclist road. The fire road is great offroad trail and offers great scenery. There's a spectacular view of the city skyline across the water, lots of wildlife and it leads to a campground which gets a lot of campers during the summer months. IT also seems to attract lots of men in g-strings who hang out in the woods and go swimming together. Not exactly the most attractive guys either- big bellies over g-strings and codpieces suddenly appearing in a clearing as you cycle by. Mostly I just see them taking the sun or swimming- have yet to see anything racy taking place. There's not a lot of cyclists on that road and I get the impression the guys are surprised to see us as we go by.

I had an argument with the driver of a black cab in Edinburgh when he tried to pass me on the inside and nearly knocked me over (a fellow cyclist acted as a witness, so it's ok)

But anyway, in my second bout of verbal abuse from him, I had already called him a w*nker and a fat bastard, when he, pointing at my Yellow jacket, black longs and green and yellow Vittoria shoes yelled "You look like a poof in that get up".

In one of those magic moments of clarity I shouted back "Maybe so, but I can take this get up off, you'll always be a fat bastard"

Ah how sweet it was :)

:D :D :D :D :D , LOL a lot

There is this kind of notion that cycling (for men) is some sort of weenie sports for skinny guys with shaved legs who can't do REAL sports like hockey!

Of course, hockey players,when they get cut or something, get to go off and have it tended to. When cyclists crash they can have blood running down their face and be covered in blood but they gotta get back on their bike! I saw an old photo of Colombian champ Luis Herrera in the Tour in 1987- blood all over his face, all over his left side- but guess what! He won the stage! I'd like to see some soccer player or baseball player do that!

Of course, probably the fame of Lance Armstrong may change the 'poof' rep of cycling, in the macho US where sports heroes are supposed to be muscle bound hulks.

Once, while at a party, Sir Winston Churchill had evidently had been enjoying libations, when he was approached by a busybody lady of high social standing (either Lady Nancy Astor or Bessie Braddock, depending on who you ask). "Sir Winston, you are drunk!", she remonstrated. He looked back at her, and said deliberately: "And Madam, you are
ugly. And tomorrow, I'll be sober, and you will still be ugly."



Brilliant minds think alike.

You should have seen a photo of me after my crash a few weeks back. And yes, I did ride home from it as well!

When I lived in San Francisco, there were wooded parks where men stood in the shadows under trees waiting for any willing partner. No mention of lube, either.