I don’t mean to bother you just after finishing your last century (by the way, you did well). The cramps you seemed to have are new, aren’t they? I could tell your pedal stroke was affected in those last nine miles. I hope this letter finds you better. I know you’re busy, so I’ll cut right to the point.
In the position of #1 Bike I feel I have a sense of responsibility. The temperatures are cooling, and I am aware that I will be seeing less of you than before, because 29er, or Fat boy as I have started addressing him (you know . . . fat tires . . . although he says that he is does actually have fat tires, but I say they are fatter than mine, so . . . Fat boy it is). I hate to sink to his level, but the bullying must stop, and #2 is about to come apart with all of the antagonizing. Fat boy is all in #2’s head stem. He thinks it is funny, but so do most things with a room temperature IQ level. Anyway, I know Fat boy will get more time in the woods. I fine with that; after all, we all have our roles to play. It goes without saying that we are all aware that you are the head of our dysfunctional family, but I wanted to keep you abreast of the goings on.
Oh, before I sign off, #2 bike asked me to request of you a rear derailleur check at some point. He said he’s squeaked a few times to you, but you might not have heard him. He says he’s not too worried and can push through the grinding. He’s such a trooper. You can’t help but love him. Anyway, I bid you adieu. As always, I’ll be ready this Saturday for the next century. Bon Velo!
Your Obedient Servant,