In a Bad Spot

After another grueling week in the saddle, including one day trying out a new saddle, the ever-vigilant Jacob Dodson returns to the Texas peloton, ready to avenge himself. The day began coldly, but things were about to get hotter. Jacob began the day chatting with Mark Cavendish, while George Hincapie lazily hung around as a domestique.


Jacob: So, this is your hill training?
Mark: Yeah. Just because I’m the fastest man in the world doesn’t mean that I go fast uphills. I think Contador is the fastest man in the world uphills. Did you ever watch Speedy Gonzalez? And his brother Slowpoke Rodriquez, where Speedy was powerless in the upstairs but Slowpoke could run really fast. I’m sorta like that. I’m speedy downstairs.
Jacob: But slow in the upstairs?
Mark: Yes, it comes with being the fastest man in the world. Speaking of man, did you know I’m from the Isle of Man?
Jacob: Yes, I’ve heard it mentioned.
Mark: That’s why they call me the Manxman, because of the Isle of Man thing, where I used to be a banker. Speaking of banker, you can bank on me to win sprints, because I’m the fastest man in the world.

Jacob: George, what’s happened to him?
George: He has become a caricature of himself, a dangerous thing, but watch:
Sprinter Cavendish?
Sprinter Mark Cavendish?
Mark Douglas Cavendish?
Mark: …Yes
George: Listen, you are no longer a feisty Manxman, you are a posh British aristocrat. Do you understand me?
Mark: Yes, perfectly.

George: Excellent.
Jacob: Wow, and that works?
George: Yes, Bob Stapleton worked it out, we can keep him under control and present him as the cultured man of Team Columbia that he’s supposed to be.
Jacob: Fascinating.
Mark. Fellows, it appears we’ve fallen off the back, oh bother.
Jacob: Already?
Mark: Yes, it seems to happen on an incline, on dear me.
Jacob: George, doesn’t this get annoying?
George: Oh no, he’s great at parties.
Mark: Is there one after the race perchance? How I do love a relaxing soiree.
George: No Mark, not today.
Mark: Oh bollocks.
Jacob: George, I paid $30 bucks to enter a race and I barely last 4 miles.
George: You must value time spent with yourself then.
Jacob: Yes, if only everyone would pay 30 bucks to spend an hour with me.

George: I know a bit about cycling and marketing. When I found the lyrca-spinning weevils of Southern Madagascar, I just knew there’d be a market for them.
Jacob: This stuff is made from worm excrement?
George: Yes, from their ass to yours. Creating catchy slogans isn’t my strength though.


Mark: I say, why’s that Tech fan cheering ‘Go Tech’? There isn’t a Tech rider here.
Jacob: He’s either illiterate or a poor sport.
Mark: Old chap, why not just throw a bottle at his crotch, that’ll set him straight.
George: Mark, no. You’re above that.
Mark: Oh, so I am. Ah, it appears we’re being pulled.
Jacob: Bloody hell, I didn’t do a thing.
George: But at least your saddle didn’t hurt you.

Jacob: You’ve been reading my blogs?
George: Oh yes, I’m a huge fan, so is Mark, on his cultured days.
Mark: Goes down swimmingly with my ten o’clock tea, it does.
George: Well, I better get him home. See you around…

The days race ended, one giant question remained – why had Jacob paired himself with a sprinter for what is a moderately climbing race? Just like how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop, the world may never know.

But, with his saddle issues removed, will he become the legendary cyclist he is destined to be? Will the start of the collegiate season see success for our young hero? Will the faux-cobbles of Tunis-Roubaix suit him? Will other people catch on to pronouncing it Touneé Roubaix? Find out with the next installment of: Tales from the Peloton!