Faulty Diplomatic Relations

Another guy took me on at the end of my recovery ride. There are these racing type bikes with kiddies’ size wheels which look quite peculiar.


He was really going for it i.e. to beat me. He took me on twice. The first time I smiled. The second time I snarled at him and said, “F*** you, mother f*****”, and promptly overtook him and slowed down.


He moved alongside and he spoke to me politely in English. I was most embarrassed. I told him his English was very good. He said thanks and then he turned off claiming that he exhausted and that he hoped to see me again! 

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