This was my normal cycling attire:
Swiss Brancale helmet, orange
vest (some cop on base told me they
were mandatory), my Specialized
cleated cycling shoes, my ONLY pair
of cycling shorts (I later found out
they were WOMEN'S shorts), and
sunglasses which someone had thrown
at me during the summer. I picked
them up, they fit, and I wore them for
over a year. Oh right, I already said that. No one ever took me aside and showed me what a cyclist was supposed to look like, so I just made it up in my Sgt. Pepper, psychedelic fashion sense. I wanted to be seen, even if I annoyed others. If I was killed on the bicycle it would be murder, not manslaughter.
I was still on an intense riding
schedule. I rode mostly for distance, although on November 5, I'd managed to cover 40 miles in under two hours, which, at the time, was amazing for me. Before then, 40 miles was just something I'd endure. Now I was getting a little agressive. Besides, most normal people have no idea how hard it is to ride at, oh, say, 20 miles an hour for two hours. So I just told them how far I rode and they'd say,"Wow...why don't you sign up for the Tour de France?" Then I'd ask them,"You play football? Why don't you sign up for the SuperBowl?" They rarely caught what I was trying to say. I think that happened about eight year later when I was defensive about people telling me cycling wasn't hard, but anyway, back to 1986-I'd ride 40 miles a day,
sometimes in freezing weather, and I
rarely dressed for it. Once I was so
cold I couldn't speak for an hour
after I returned
