In Everyone's Bad Books

 Later that day.

Victoria Square. The Schwalbe Classic.

The women go first.

One of them wins it.

Not Spratty.

Hey, says Sweezus. Bad luck for you women, going first.

You said it, says Spratty. But I'm used to the heat.

Me too, says Sweezus.

By the way, says Spratty, you're in everyone's bad books. 

How come? asks Sweezus.

Your little guy on his skateboard, says Spratty. Heaps of team favourites came off thanks to him on Mount Lofty this morning.

Anyone injured? asks Sweezus.

Scrapes and dents, says Spratty. One or two wheels needing replacement. Stuff like that.

Yeah, well, says Sweezus.

Yeah, well, says Spratty.

Seven pm. It's a bit cooler, but not all that much.

Bang! the Men's race starts off. Round Victoria Square for an hour plus one lap.

Don't try too hard, says Vello to Pierre-Louis. This race counts for nothing.

Then why...? asks Pierre-Louis. 

Save your energy, says David. That's what we do.

Gaius speeds by. 

Ancient Romans don't believe in such nonsense. He's intending to try.

Sweezus is up near the front of the pack, not looking sideways.

Chris Froome catches up.

Hey, says Froomey.

Hey, says Sweezus.

A word in your ear, says Froomey.

Sweezus goes faster. So does Froomey.

They are now level with Simon Clarke.

Hey, says Clarkey.

Hey, says Sweezus. 

Did Froomey tell you? asks Clarkey.

Nup, says Sweezus. But I know in any case. 

He knows, says Clarkey to Froomey.

It's not just Team Israel-Premier-Tech  says Froomey. Lots of guys got scrapes and dents and needed replacements.

That's racing, says Sweezus, speeding up again.

Peaking too soon, however.

Some other guy wins the Schwalbe Classic.