“Yes, we will stay for dinner.” That should be your response any and every time one of your riding buddies invites you to come to their place for dinner after a ride, especially if the ride ends in front of their house. That is also the answer you should expect if you extend such an invitation. Of course you should offer to chop veggies, set the table, and pour water. You do not need to take a shower, but washing your face and hands might be a nice gesture. If they offer up the shower, I’ll let you draw that line. Eating at a friend’s house and being naked in a friend’s house are miles apart as far as a judgment call goes. So, maybe just take a hit of the deodorant you keep in your bag. You should never turn a post-ride dinner invitation down.
There is nothing going on in your life after a bike ride that’ll be better than having dinner with friends. Nada. Sex? Yeah right. Name one time you had sex when you got home after a ride. I’ve been riding bikes for like 15 years and never once got laid after I got home from a ride. After a ride all you want is food, a chair and a comfy pair of pants. Guess what? That’s exactly what a post-ride dinner invite is all about. Well, maybe not the pants. Last night they popped the question. My wife and I got the invite from people we rode with. My wife was reluctant. Me? I already slipped my pants over my chamois, locked my bike on the roof rack and dug a ball cap out of my bag. “We have a lot of food at home. Why don’t we just head home?” She reasoned. “Honey, they saw me lock the bike to the car. I think at this point they’re expecting us.” I tossed back. Maybe it’s something catholically polite engrained in our brains from living in Wisconsin, but for some reason we have a hard time accepting impromptu invitations. It’s almost like we feel that others shouldn’t go through trouble for us. Seriously, where’s the trouble in dinner. Its two extra plates, glasses and napkins. At the most, they won’t have leftovers for lunch the following day. For us, what was at home that was better than good conversation with friends, a chance to see their kitchen renovation progress, a big salad and a giant bowl of pesto pasta with veggies and faux-chicken? As funny as Cougar Town, Glee and Modern Family are, we do have a DVR. Or, maybe this is precisely the reason I’ve never had sex after a ride. Nawwww. I doubt it.
Sure, there are some weird people that ride bikes. What if “that guy” invites you over? You should do it. Yes. Maybe it’s your chance to get past the lazy eye and the purple helmet cover. You’re a cyclist. You’re adventurous. You’ve probably ridden down a dead end road or taken a goat path trail just to see where it goes. So, just think of a post-ride dinner invite like an unknown trail or road. I have yet to be disappointed by following either of those routes on a road or mountain bike ride. Bet you that odd bird is a great cook. Bet you their dog will love you. Ten bucks says there are chocolate chip cookies and the Tour of Flanders saved on the DVR. Your not thinking the worst could happen are you? Really? C’mon. Cyclists can’t be lunatic serial killers. If you ride bikes and have even a semblance of a regular professional occupation, between sleeping, eating, training and bike maintenance there is no time left in the day for successful secret evil real-life SAW 4 type horror movie plotting. Trust me, if you accept a dinner invitation from a cycling buddy, your feet, still in your Sidis, will not end up washing ashore on a beach in Vancouver.