Guy was riding into the headlands, like me, or turning off toward SausalitoĪfter the first short, steep section of the headlands road. A third of the way across the bridge I was trying to predict whether this Grateful for the help since I didn’t have all that much time to ride beforeĭark. On the Golden Gate bridge kept up the pace, taking turns pulling. We cruised pretty fast through the rest of the Presidio, and By this point I was sick of the headwind myself andĭropped in behind him. He was a tall guy, with a US Postal Service jersey, a Dura-Ace equipped Through the Presidio before he passed me-that is, someone besides the messenger Ī racer-type who had traded places with the messenger somewhere along the line. I was vaguely aware of her presence on my wheel most of the way She’d probably had a hard day dodgingĬars, etc. Was a windy evening, a headwind, and I figured if she wanted to slip in behind Ride, when I passed a bike messenger with a huge, stuffed-full messenger bag. I was outbound on Greenwich street, half a mile into my
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