Dateline: 2013. Back then a caravan of MN bicyclists drove to Texas 'hill country' for winter bikey training. Destination: a sprawling scenic area 50 miles west of Austin. We stay in a hotel in Fredericksburg. Dotted by small poverty towns, few cars, mild weather and lotsa empty rolling roads going nowhere. Perfect for winter bikey training. I drove down the prior year with a bigwig exec from Cargill & serious roadie. Nice guy. Wealthy. We got along fine other than arguing the merits of high fructose corn syrup. Above is actual pic of my car as we're about to head south for the 2 day drive down I-35 which connects Mpls to Dallas nonstop, quite handy. Stop me when this gets too exciting.
Year 2 I again drove my car and again keen to split the driving & the room. Fellow rider named Dave agreed to join me. I sorta knew Dave from riding in groups together. Older guy, def weird, but harmless. Looks like a skinny Santa Claus. Would do weird stretches when we would take breaks, as in head on ground, legs over like a circle. Road bikers are usually an odd lot. These are folks who are fine partaking in a largely solo sport. Ergo, nothing like a team sport with its social aspects. We ride together in groups sometimes, but the sport attracts loner types, or at least socially weird ones, where being solo works out well. I've observed this since I started road riding in groups in the 90s. Mountain bikers are universally cool cats, but roadies? Not so much. Let's focus.
So Dave was bugging me on the drive south, had to tell him simple stuff like 'stay with the car when fueling petrol' as he would insert nozzle and walk into store unless I scolded him. But he could drive a manual and that's what I need in a carpool situation. Would have been helpful if he could have a normal conversation on a 2 day road trip but can't have everything.
So we finally get there, do our day 1 ride and afterwards in the motel he's dressed only in tighty whiteys (wtf?) and doing the weird circular stretch again with his arse in the air and I'm like dude put some fucking sweatpants on. But that wasn't the dealbreaker. Again this is 2nd nite in motel. I brought my newish CD box set of Bob Dylan Original Monos for the drive & motel room ambience on my Audioengine bluetooth speaker.
Back in the day this fetched, for the CD set, over $200. Seems laughable now with the LP renaissance & CDs nearly free but back then twas a pretty penny. Anyhoots, we had separate beds of course, I was online or whatnot, Dave was on his bed doing whatever. I could hear his laptop making noises but wasn't til several minutes later I looked over. And what did I see?
He had the box set next to him and was ripping them to his laptop cd drive.
Didn't ask me. Just had it next to him and was ripping away 1 by 1.
I flipped out. Loudly. His weirdness on a 2-day drive, the tighty whitey stretching set the stage but stealing my music? Probably scratching the discs in process? I was furious. And told him so. With gusto. I don't recall the words but culminated in 'get the fuck out.' And he did, he packed up & split to someone else's room. Where he stayed for the week.
During the week I debated the drive back, going solo or not. He could rent a car or whatnot. Having calmed down I decided to include him & we drove back together without issue.
Oh and, the week? I rode for hours during the day and drank enormous amounts of beer each evening (10-15) & binge watched Breaking Bad. Lotta binging. Every nite. I wasn't friendly with moderation back then. Had no governor. Within a 1 block radius of the hotel there was a Sonic burger, Whataburger, Wendy's. Also, a Dollar General that sold beer. A drunkard's paradise.
