I am aware that we are just getting to know each other, and the Canadian told me that the last letter you received was of our meeting to come. To put your mind at ease, I think the Canadian is resolved to the fact that I am a superior bike, after all I am a Spaniard and a thoroughbred race horse. I know how that sounds, but I say only the truth. The Canadian is happy to assume the role of #2 and slotted to criterium races, while I take the lead. Over on the trainer, it is my understanding that the Italian has completely conceded to be #3. He seems happy to just contribute. The one whom the Canadian refers to as Fat Boy has attempted to speak to me, but I have nothing to say to him . . . even if he speaks to me in Spanish. This begs the question: what is a Santa Rosa? Sounds like a small Mexican restaurant to me.
The Canadian told me that you need me to be brief in my letters, so I will. I know that we have only ridden for a week and a couple of days. I can feel that we will connect. Our first road race this past weekend had some glimmering sparkles of our communication. I can feel your shift in weight and responded accordingly. My shorter chain stays and lowered seat stays make me as stiff as Vermouth in the middle of the day. I believe you can feel my reaction. You sprint. I sprint. You climb. I climb. I am hungry, señor! I will eat as much as you put in front of me. We will only get better.
For now, I will leave you. I am in servitude to you.
P.S. Bike #3 says hello . . . bike #2 is strangely quiet today