And your nomination of a term for someone who scalps someone who has just scalped them is?

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cd365

Guru
Location
Coventry, uk
a not so seriously post

i had a very nice bottom pass me last year and thought i get her back but no matter how much effort i put in the brain in my underpants would not let me pass . had to turn off and go a different route in the end
I can't work out why you turned off!
 

Shut Up Legs

Down Under Member
The problem with passing someone like this is that you have to make it stick. In other words, to avoid the world's greatest ignominy, (being passed by someone you have just passed), you have to ride like stink whilst appearing nonchalant, and.........and.....without checking over your shoulder to see if he is coming back at you. So you can end up riding flat out for 2 or 3 miles, not knowing whether the guy is drafting you, is half a mile back, or has turned off.

The other approach is to only pass on hills, and then to wait at the top of the hill and get chatting when he catches you up. Maybe ride together for a while. That way you don't have to worry about him attempting to repass you. That's my Sunday morning preferred option.
I avoid having to shoulder-check after overtaking someone, simply by having a rear-view mirror. Shoulder-checking just betrays your insecurity... it's like bleeding into shark-infested waters! :laugh:
 
I take it then that no one on here has contributed to an earlier thread where there was much derision for those who did not acknowledge / say hello to a fellow cyclist? Maybe it is different in the smoke but out in the sticks we speak to each other and usually ride together for a bit. it is called being sociable. Anything else is racing, with a number on.
 

Fab Foodie

hanging-on in quiet desperation ...
Location
Kirton, Devon.
Okay, I know it was juvenile and competitive, but 40 miles into a ride today, someone cruised past me (with wonderful disdain) and I felt obliged to scamper off after them. Thirty seconds later, I cruised past them as we went up a hill (a blip in the terrain in most any other county other than Suffolk), and somehow resisted the impulse to take my hands of the handlebars and inspect my fingernails. There must be a name for this. :whistle:
Dullard?
 
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