Road Trippin w. the Leipheimers

As a car less (and careless actually) 25 year old kid, I would do the group rides out of Dave's Bike Sport in Santa Rosa on Wednesday mornings because to train with Peters, Sayers, Levi, Odessa, Nancy Vallance, Roemer, Divine, Hagenlocher, Julian Dean (love the way he delivers Hushovd), Roberto Gaggioli and the occasional Julich, was about as much fun as was possible on the bike. I also would forage around to look for rides to the races. Sayers and Levi were always, shall we say, a bit uptight on the rides, they basically liked to go hard and would chew you out if you didn't pull through as hard and long as they did. "Sorry Mike," I throw out sarcastically, "we all can't be big pro Mercury studs like you." We'd do the Tuesday night twilight's and tell stories of horror and glory on our long endurance days. Those were the days.


So Nancy and Odessa, neither very shy, get to voting on who has the nicest ass and legs (separate vote) and I begin to overhear. Any guesses, tallies on who was the top vote getter were? Have you seen John Peter's legs? I am getting away from myself here, but if you ever get a chance to overhear cycling chixs talk about guy's bodies... take it, pure entertainment.

Turns out Levi and Odessa are driving down to Visalia that weekend and have room in the Nissan.

Odessa, "Awesome, come with us!" Me, "Super, what time we leaving?" Levi, "What? Why to do we have to take him?"

I get picked up on Friday, Blondie is at the wheel. I toss my bike on the rack and we're off, all the way down I-5. Beautiful country. Uneventful trip, except when we stop for gas and baldy takes over the wheel. The rest of the way we are doing 55, his hands are at 2 and 10, and Blondie is constantly on him about how he can possibly be going so damn slow, on a four lane highway, two lane road, cars stacked up behind us, no matter. 2 and 10. If you can believe it, and I know you can't, I just sat in the back and stayed quiet. A bike racer driving to a race like a grandma, slow and barely able to see over the steering wheel.

We get to the Holiday Inn at Visalia and the Saturn team whisks baldy away for his massage. So that leaves me and his hot girlfriend...

"Well, let's get a room and go for a ride," she says with a huge smile. Words I'd been wanting to hear (still want to hear) all my life.

Me, "Um er, ok, I am down to share a room, I couldn't afford one on my own anyway, not here."

We get our room, one of the last ones and we're in, shackin' up. She calls up skinny, and says, "Hey, Peter and I are in 206."
Baldy exclaims audibly through the phone, "WHAT, you're sharing a room with him????!!"

Blondie, "What's the big deal, it's just Peter... besides, what are we supposed to do, fork out over a hundred each and have rooms next door to each other? Come on, relax, we're going for a ride and we'll be back so we all can eat."

"Just" me, hmmm, flattering. Stories follow from both her and me about riding, racing, training, and sex - she brought that last one up.

Ride was fun, although I don't remember any of it. We get back, shower up (she went first), towel off, and end up in the prone position, each of us on our own concaved, well used queen beds 10 feet apart and here it comes... "Levi trains so hard, and when he gets done, all he wants to do is eat and go to sleep. He never wants to have sex. And when he does want to, it's over so fast i don't even get anything out of it." (sorry buddy - but you have bigger fish (sausage?) to fry, go get 'em in the TT and Pyrenees, just stay with Moreau, the Chicken, or Valverde - quit marking Vino, he's got nothing this year)

Me to self, "Oh my god, please, please, don't ask me to help this situation." I turned out to be a good friend, faithful, consoling... offering, "Hey, look on the bright side, he trains less in the off season. Try him then... or you should throw yourself at him early in the week, before interval Tuesdays. Besides, he's all big on getting to Europe, doing the tour, but so are lots of guys, he'll probably only race a few more years and then you can take him out to pasture, the stud." We talk some more and doze off, in our own beds, dreaming of... yes that is it, the Rocky Hills RR the next day. Nothing else.