My dad is King of the Mountains.
Fast as lightening on a 25-mile ride with the Old Spokes Bicycle Club, dad jettisoned the peloton to join a three man breakaway.
Dad, Jim and Bob traded turns drafting each other to maintain their blistering 19 mph clip. They grandstanded across the finish line nearly 10 minutes in front of the rest of the pack.
After receiving his polka dot jersey and wonderworking some quickfinger digital watch maneuvers to confirm ride stats, Dad hopped back in the saddle. He couldn't unlock the car anyway because the Rocklands had driven the carpool.
Dad headed back to meet the rest of the bike gang, his coterie of admirers, and rubbed in a victory lap.