Gute Fahrt noch

Notes from riding a 200 km brevet. The petrol station worker takes two steps out the door and lights a cigarette when he sees me coming on my road bike. I can see him sigh as I clearly disturb his hundred-percent-illegal break. This is the downside of having German as a third language; I can't properly scold him for how dangerous it is to smoke at a petrol station. And also - I'm not in the mood. I am on the clock, riding a 200 km brevet, and this middle-of-nowhere petrol station is my refueling break. I started that morning at 7:10 from Moabit. I was on the start line just a few minutes before seven, and was pleasantly surprised by the variety of bikes. In the past, I did brand-sponsored group rides where all bikes were carbon, everyone wore tight Lycra, and the mood was usually serious and grim. Here, people of all ages were relaxed and smiling and dressed as if they had never seen an Instagram cycling ad. A brevet is not a race; it is a social event where a group of people tries to…