NewsArticleBody
Which of these bike guys will slow down long enough to hear the girl say, what's a guy like you doing on a nice bike like that? - OBRA Criterium 2004, Eugene. That's Hanz Scholz in the middle on his Air Friday. Photo by Tim Link.
Maynard Hershon needs no introduction to lovers of cycling satire. To celebrate his appearance at this year's Bike Friday/Pactour Desert Camp we reproduce below (with his kind permission) his seminal piece on the mating game - as conducted at 26 mp/h or less. - LC
The Rules (for Men) by Maynard Hershon. March 1997
This article's for single guys who ride bikes and aren't meeting women, or aren't meeting women they like. The best way to meet women is on bikes and the best way to do that is riding centuries.
Here's how to maximize your century magnetism. Photocopy this piece and tape one copy on your bathroom mirror. Seal another copy in plastic and carry it in your jersey pocket on centuries. Reread it often.
Why centuries? Meet a woman on a long ride and you can feel confident you have a lot in common: You don't smoke; you're secretly afraid to weigh yourselves; you use boutique brands of shampoo and conditioner; you subsist on chicken burritos, you have unflattering tan lines.
Meeting a woman on a bike is not like meeting her in a fern bar or at the frozen pizza freezer in Safeway. Distanced from the meatmarket scene and its second-rate men, she's more able to distance herself from the certain knowledge that you are just like them. Worse, maybe.
On a bike ride, she may actually be glad to meet you, despite the tools clanking annoyingly under your saddle and the gross sweat-salt Rorschach on the back of your shorts. She may be happy to have company on her ride, even yours...
It's easy to start a conversation on a century. After all, you're all there to have a good time, all doing the same stuff.
Everyone's going the same places, climbing the same endless sun-baked hills, screaming white-knuckled down the same perilous descents, grinding into the same relentless headwinds, eating the same century "food."
So much to talk about.
And it's easy to meet lots of people. Each time the nice century folks provide a roadside rest stop, the deck gets shuffled. Rider combinations can change - or they can stay the same. Works like this:
Let's say you're riding with a young lady; You feel your companion MAY be Ms. Right. The two of you roll into a rest stop. Cleverly, you keep an eye on her and leave the rest stop when she does. You are so cool.
You ride with her some more, perhaps hand-in-hand through meadows of wildflowers into eventual Sun City retirement and motorhome travel.
If, on the other hand, you suspect your riding companion MAY NOT be Ms. Right: Merely depart the rest stop before or after she does. No rejection, no confrontation, no "we need to talk."
Couldn't be simpler.
She, you understand, has precisely the same options.
At the century: Don't wear a jersey with 14 brand-names on it you can't pronounce. Wear a plain, un- "pro" jersey you'll look like you have a life beyond cycling. Until, of course, you begin to speak.
Don't ride the "challenging" distance with the studly guys and the four deadly serious women. You don't need miles; you're exhausted all the time already. What you need is a date. Ride 100 kilometers with the normal folks, the folks with lives: You might meet someone.
Don't get in an all-guy paceline following a tandem. The only woman you'll see all day is the one on the back of the tandem.
She's married to the guy on the front of the tandem. Though she sometimes finds herself hating him, she's not gonna go out with you. You're not the answer to any of the questions she's asking.
Don't blow by anyone without saying hi. If you know you have a tendency to do that, to pass without a word, ask yourself why.
Would Greg LeMond recognize you on the street? Would Madonna?
Howard Stern? Have you written your name in bold across cycling's record books?
Who (cosmically) are you? That's what I thought.
So say hi. If you're greeting a potential Ms. Right, follow the hi with a question, one that makes you sound as if you're sincerely interested in other people. "Howya doin'?" is good, and you can get it said even when you're gasping for breath.
If you manage to get a conversation going, adjust your pace to that of your new riding partner. Forget your fitness goals.
Ride along side-by-side, talk light-heartedly. Compare sunscreen numbers. Ask more questions. Laugh if you feel the urge.
Again: Forget your fitness goals. Don't call your bike ride "workouts." Don't quote bike magazine articles. Never mention bike-parts brands. Don't complain about politics in your bike club.
When you reach the next rest stop, keep an eye on her but do your own thing. She can spread peanut butter on a bagel-half without your help.
If, when you climb on your bike to roll out of that rest stop, you notice she's putting on her helmet and checking to see if you're ready to go too, quickly read the sealed-in-plastic copy of this piece again.
If you and she are still riding together at the next rest stop, lose the article. Rest of the ride, dude, you're on your own.