As I walked through our over-55 community, I noticed a new lady riding her competition bicycle. As she passed me I could not help but notice how well her ass sat on her bike seat. Two nice cheeks split by what appeared to be a thong under her Lycra bike shorts, and they appeared very firm. It takes me about 25 minutes to walk the two mile loop around our community, and she passed me three times in that timeframe. As I came to a crossroad I finally got a good look at her from the front, and I swear I could see a camel-toe as her shorts were so tight. At the clip she was riding she was working up quite a sweat, but wasn't pausing to drink much water.
As I turned up our street to finish my walk, I heard a crash behind me. I turned and saw the biker had fallen to the side of the road and was laying there grabbing her right calf. She obviously had a cramp in her leg and was in some pain. I turned back toward her, offering a water bottle and reaching down to massage her calf. She drank half the bottle down and then winced as I hit the tight muscles of her calf. As I rubbed down her leg I explained that I was a trainer at our local high school, and continued trying to ease her discomfort.
As soon as she was able to stand we lifted her bike and found the front tire rim was bent from the fall. As we walked back to her house we introduced one another and I found her name was Jill and she was recently widowed. She had been into competition riding since college and had joined a local club soon after moving here. She looked down at her front tire and said "Great. Another expense I can't afford!" and started crying.
I offered to fix her tire as I had worked in a bike shop and still had most of the specialty tools. So we marched her into her living room, propped her leg up on an ottoman and I got a zip-lock bag of ice to drape over her calf. As she was comfortable, I said I would see her later in the afternoon and left, getting her bike as I went out through the garage.
Two hours later I had her tire spokes trued back up and put a new inner tube into it and mounted it back onto her bike. I took it for a ride around the loop, and then dropped it back off at Jill's home. I knocked on the door and Jill called for me to come in. Her calf was still in spasm, so I suggested a massage to work some of the muscles free. She insisted that wasn't necessary, as she would just lay around the rest of the day and give it time to heal. I nodded okay and told her that I finished work on her bike and it was in the garage when she felt ready to ride again.
Two days later Jill sped by me as I was on my daily walk, then looped back around and stopped beside me. She thanked me for fixing her bike, and said that it was so much easier to pedal. I shrugged and told her that it just needed a tune up and grease on the rear hub. Jill laughed and said maybe she needed a tune up herself.
I stood back and took a good look at her. Jill was 5' 3", maybe 105 pounds and maybe a B cup. On her petite frame they looked like a decent handful. I told Jill there was nothing wrong with her looks, but she insisted she was out of shape for long distance rides. I tried to convince her otherwise, but it was a losing battle.
Several months passed with us nodding as she sped by, but not really talking much. Then, as I was driving back from an afternoon game, I came upon a group of cyclists gathered at the side of the road. As I pulled over to see if I could help, one of the cyclists said a car ran three of the group off the road and they were waiting for an ambulance as one had a compound fracture. Just then the ambulance pulled up, the EMTs had the injured rider on a gurney and drove off. I looked around, and Jill edged up close to me and said she could use a ride home as her legs had cramped during the wait. I loaded her bike into the rear of my pickup and hoisted her into the front seat.