I wear loose comfy clothes commuting with bibshorts underneath, ready to pounce the second someone suggests I'm not fast.
I leap into the nearest phone box and strip down to my terrifying skintight lycra exoskeleton then snapping a pair of TT bars onto the front of my bike I charge down EVERY shared use path I can with neither a bell nor whistle to announce my stealthy approach.
The air silent as it whips around my sleek form, I soon reach supersonic speeds. As I continue to pump the fleshy protuberances stabbing like pneumatic sausages out the bottom of my TIGHT lycra shorts I approach the speed of light, achieving red shift.
All of us know that RED IS FASTER and I move through not just space, but time. Never to be seen again in this petty, poluted world. 67 million years ago I stop, lightly panting but blissfully cool as I am wearing lycra. I am eaten by a confused T-rex.