Nothing can stop me but the blocking.”
“Maybe we should try defeating their plan now rather than waiting.”
“Let’s ask Carl. I’m wasting my time riding with no competition.”
Out in the pit, we confronted Carl as the stands began filling up for the evening grind. Another packed arena made it hard to be heard.
“I’m being pushed around,” Gary said. “I can’t pass, either.”
Carl wagged his head. “That’s racing. I expect they’ll get more aggressive.”
“I can outmaneuver them, if they go after me hard.”
Carl nodded in agreement. “If they take you out, we’ll file a protest. We have plenty of witnesses.”
“Mr. Caldwell has the final say and I’m not sure he can be impartial,” I said.
Carl waved away my concern. “He can’t get away with it. We’ll make him accountable.” “Why not go around their blockade now?” I suggested.
“That’s what they want you to do. Then they’ll crash into you and break your bike, or some bones. We wait.”
“What’s to say they won’t crash Gary, anyway? They’re up to no good. They’ve already buzzed Gary several times.”
“Gary can take care of himself. He has the more nimble bike.”
“We’re going to tire. He might slip up.”
“I’m not dealing with ‘what ifs,’” Gary said. “I’ll wait.”
Carl checked Gary’s bike. He spun the wheels for trueness, inspected the tires. “Some wear already. We’ll be lucky if these last a week. They need to be checked after every ride.”
Doug stood by watching Carl do his inspection. “Don’t worry, Carl. That’s my department. I’m watching his bike. Nothing wrong so far.” Gary’s new bike received favorable attention. The audience supporting us related more to the safety than the high-wheeler. They must have thought Napp’s awkward-looking bike resembled a giant insect pushing safeties out of its way.
Silicon Valley Cyclist 
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