This guy has definitely been riding too long...
Now we are following the Danube and experiencing some tougher riding conditions, ie hills, it has become apparent that the German equivalent to a French "Peleton" is oh so different.
They can be spotted ahead. Usually in groups of four or six, going your way.
Small, smart clip-on boxes, upright riding position, all fingerless gloves and deck shoes. Chattering, seemingly unaware to our approach.
No way through as they spread out. A quick "parp" on my newly acquired horn. A gap reluctantly opens and we slip by.
As we pass the free bus-pass gang, we note soft pastel colours with the odd splash of sensible dayglo, no spandex or Lycra, but still evidence of one or two Bratwurst lunches too many, blue rinses and flowery blouses - and that's just the men...
As we round the next bend - disaster strikes.
A hill!
OK, not too bad. Down the gears and get into it, bottom gear, steady climb.
Then it happens.
1, 2, 3, 4.
One by one the new hip gang slide past, triumphantly. Effortlessly pedalling. Is that smugness I detect?
How can this be?
Here we are, legs and lungs straining, youth (ahem) on our side.
There they are, old enough to prefer cocoa and a custard cream to beer and crisps. But, wise enough to have embraced the new era of riding...
Electric bikes!
Every man and his dachshund has got one. It's amazing what a plug socket and half a dozen triple A's can do for you. The epitome of two wheel motion has arrived, along with it feelings of jealousy and loathing.
Five minutes later, still gasping, we catch them up. There they are, spread out, breathing normally, pulses steady, discussing prescriptions.
I "parp" my horn again...
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