Imagine this. Christmas is just around the corner, all chimneys of the world are waiting for their festive delivery, and instead of the soft whisper of a sleigh, Santa is hammering down on the pedals of a bicycle. No team of eight reindeer, no jingle…
Every year, it happens. The leaves fall. The roads glisten with a film of damp betrayal. Your group ride becomes a rolling discussion on tyre pressure that somehow turns into a full-blown emotional spiral.
It’s November. The temperature is “not freezing, but emotionally cold.” The roads are damp, the air smells like betrayal, and every cyclist you see looks like they got dressed during a fire drill.
