The cyclist and the biker

The cyclist and the biker went into a bar,

And the cyclist ordered a fruit smoothie, the biker a beer.

Said the cyclist, “I ride for miles and miles.”

The biker replied, “So do I.”

The cyclist said, “I’m building muscles and lungs.”

The biker nodded.

The biker said, “How long does it take you to reach the coast?”

Cyclist, “It takes as long as it takes, no more and no less.”

Biker, “WTF does that mean?”

C, “Well less time than to ride the STP (Seattle to Portland) and more than my regular six mile loop around the airport.


B, “You need not shout;  I’m not hard of hearing. I ride with my friends in the club around the state and across country,”

C, “Hmm, so do I. But you make so much noise!”

B, “You’re the one shouting. Loud pipes save lives.”

B, “Do you ride with friends? Or do you ride alone?”

C, “Well, both. BTW. What is that denim vest with the patches all about?”

B, “Those are my colors. My club patches. The rest are ride or rally patches. This one is for a fallen rider. What are your bright clothes trying to tell me?”

C, “These are my colors, I guess. One tyvek jacket is for my club and the others are rides.”

B, “Isn’t it dangerous riding on the side of the road?”

C, “Yes, it’s why I wear bright colors. How do you keep safe on the road?”

B, “I ride in numbers. We have signals to tell each other when we change kanes, go over railroad tracks, or see something in the road.”

C, ” So do we.”

B,”Well my friends are here; it’s time to ride. Nice talking with you. Be safe.”

C, “You too. Thanks.”

B, “For what?”

C: “For sharing the ride.”

The biker left; the cyclist finished his smoothly and went out to ride his bike, but sadly it had been stolen.”

And So he walked home.

The walker next to him said, “So, where’s your bike?”

– Small town boy

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