Chapter 20

At thirty-five feet, Dane’s Contender had enough room for eight but since Lani was visiting Vince in Conway, it was the same six of us as the night before. Bobby and Mel had been out with us on Inherit the Wind so they knew most of the safety stuff. It was a little different, but not much. You didn’t need to worry about getting knocked overboard by the boom. Cherry and Mei seemed to know their way around a boat pretty well, too.

Kim parked the truck as I stowed all the gear and made certain everyone knew where life jackets were. With Kim on board, I turned on the depth finder and eased into the channel. Kim took over steering and I went to the front and grabbed the cast net. It only took three tries before the bait well was full. Little fish called menhaden school in the shallows and make great bait.

As we idled out of the harbor, I asked Cherry if he’d been boating much. Mei, put her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. I waited. He smiled.

Mei said, “Mr. Davis is the Chief of Operations for the Charleston Ports Authority.”

“Do you see that container ship?” Cherry asked, pointing to a large ship heading for the mouth of the Cooper River. He picked up the binoculars from the console. “That’s the Basle Express, operated by Hapag. Hapag-Lloyd, actually. I haven’t been on it, but I have been on the Essen Express, which is almost identical. It’s a Neo-Panamax, which means it’s got a thirteen-thousand TEU capacity. That’s the largest ship that could pass through the Panama Canal although it’s probably never been through it. That means it could carry thirteen thousand twenty-foot containers. If it came from Europe, and it probably did, it probably took about three weeks. It’s probably out of Rotterdam.”

“Holy crap, Cherry. Did you take the royal tour of the port or something?” Everyone was listening now.

“Yeah. I’ve been on a bunch of them, been up in one of the cranes, spent a day in the operations center, and all that. I’ve toured a bunch of different container ships. Not that one, though. It’s why we’re thinking about going to college in Hong Kong. The nine largest ports in the world are on the east coast of China, Korea, Singapore, or Hong Kong.”

“And you want to learn how to work in one.”

“For starters.” He held up a hand, telling me to wait and he’d explain.

I took over from Kim and she went forward with Mei and Mel. The sea was like glass so I pushed the throttle up a little, and then a little more. I said I’d hold it to thirty-five but we were doing nearly fifty and Dane’s boat had plenty more. I looked back to see that we were throwing up a pretty good wake. Nearing the jetty, I eased back the throttle and we looked for a good spot.

The thirty-five-foot Contender was made for high speed and deep water and we stood out like a sore thumb among smaller boats along the jetty. Two jetties had been built extending a couple of miles out from either side of Charleston Harbor to protect larger boats as they came in or out. That’s what they were built for but they made great places to fish.

We went almost to the far end of the southern jetty before I dropped anchor, a good fifty yards from the nearest other boat. I gave Kim a thumbs up and she returned it. We grabbed two poles each, baited them, and tossed them in the water to see what Neptune would send our way.

“So, what are your big plans, my man?” I asked.”

“Dad makes good money. I’ve seen what he does and I could do it. I like the constant activity. You can make pretty good money running operations.”

“But that’s not what you want to do,” I said. His tone of voice said there was more.

“That’s not what I want to do. It’s good to know but not what I want to do. I want to work my way into a transport company and aim for the top.”

“You have a specific company in mind, don’t you?”

“The Yan Ming Marine Transport Corporation operates out of Taiwan but they have operations all over the world.”

“Taiwan isn’t far from Hong Kong,” Bobby said.

“No. Not far at all. What makes Yan Ming different is they focus on small and medium transports.”

“If you did that, you’d live in Taiwan, right?” I asked.

“Yes. There aren’t a lot of Americans in shipping in the Far East.”

“Probably not a lot that speak Chinese,” I said.

“Bù. Méiyǒu rènhé. I’d be the first, I think. Among a very small number, at any rate.”

“And you think they would see an advantage in having you on board.”

“I do. They seem to be willing to do things differently.”

“What do Mei’s parents think of that?” I asked.

“They don’t know about my plans yet. Mr. Li is impressed by actions.”

“Not words. Does he know you plan to go to the University of Hong Kong? No. You haven’t been accepted yet, right.”

“You’ve got a bite,” Bobby said.

I reeled in a little whiting and decided to try what Doctor Legare had done to catch a bull shark. I switched to a heavier pole, put the live whiting on a large circle hook with a steel leader. Bobby watched and Cherry smiled, apparently knowing what I was doing. Our freezer still had plenty of fish in it. I wanted the fun of catching something big.

We each had two lines in the water and all three of us had fun catching a few red drum. Bobby caught a toadfish. Most of them are harmless but I caught Bobby before he tried to grab it. You never know. I used the long pliers to get the hook out and we let the ugliest fish of the day splash back into the Atlantic.

Kim walked back to see how we were doing and to find out if we’d caught anything interesting. Bobby’s toadfish was pretty exciting but she didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it. She grabbed Gatorades from the cooler and walked back to the bow.

“Kim is, um. Kim has...” Cherry said, but didn’t know how to finish. I was going to let him suffer but Bobby helped him out.

“Kim is nicely curvy.”

“That’s it. Curvy.”

I had to laugh. “Kim is, indeed, nicely curvy. Mel is nicely curvy. Mei is beautiful,” I said.

“Yes, but not particularly curvy,” he said and we all laughed. Mei didn’t have much in the way of curves but she was very definitely feminine and very pretty.”

We’d caught a dozen fish, from bonnethead to toadfish but my whiting hadn’t had a nibble. I checked him several times and Bobby joked about me taking my pet fish for a walk. He said I should name him. He seemed to be doing fine. We’d had lunch and just about enough sun for the day when I started to reel him in for the last time. He’d more than earned his freedom. As much as I wanted a good fight, I was sort of happy he’d lasted all day and would go free.

That’s what I was thinking when my pole bent double. “Holy shit, Pierce, what do you have?” Cherry hollered.

“I don’t know,” I answered, holding tension on the line and increasing the drag.

“What kind of line do you have?” Cherry asked.

“Hundred-pound mono with a steel leader. I’m torn between letting him run or increasing the drag. This is a big reel with a lot of line on it. I’m going to let him run, I think.”

“I would. If you get short on line, I can raise the anchor and we can chase him. That’s a stout pole and he is really bending it.”

“No kidding. Hey, Baby. Any guesses?” I asked as all three girls came back to see what was going on.

Bobby and Cherry reeled their lines in, undoubtedly to minimize risk of getting tangled up. He’d taken about half my line when he finally started to slow. I started working to get my line back while everyone watched. Kim and Bobby took turns with the binoculars but I didn’t think he would come to the surface until I wore him out. I was wrong.

“There,” Kim hollered, pointing north toward the center of the channel.

“You’ve got a hammerhead, Pierce. I’m going to take a nap. You’re going to be a while.”

“Thanks, Cherry.” It seemed like he was swimming toward the boat and I cranked as fast as I could. He got to within fifty yards of the boat, then turned around and took off for England.

I guess most people would have thought of me as an athlete. I didn’t think that. I knew I had some good genes and I worked hard to get stronger and faster but there were plenty of guys who were a lot stronger and faster than me. I guess I had fun by working hard. With that shark on the line, I was working hard. After working hard for a long time, I stopped having fun. Reeling this thing in was hard work. I could have handed the rod to Bobby or Cherry but I was too stubborn to do that. I was the guy that put the whiting on the hook. I would be the guy to reel in the shark. What an idiot. Was Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea an idiot? No he was not. I kept working.

Kim brought me a Gatorade and I took a couple of sips. She talked to me and I grunted back. The shark dove and stayed deep and for a while, we were stuck. I didn’t make any progress reeling him in and he didn’t take any line. I thought of a hundred reasons why we were stuck but none of them made any sense. I felt the pressure ease and started to reel. I made a lot of progress, quickly and when he broke the surface again, he was only about a hundred feet from the boat. He was mine.

When he got within thirty feet of the boat, Bobby and Cherry started talking about what we would do when we got him alongside the boat. They weren’t sure. Neither was I.

“He’s ten feet, easy, Jack,” Cherry said. “He’s probably going to weigh around four hundred pounds. Four hundred! I don’t think we can land that.” I glanced over at Cherry, who was holding a gaff that looked very inadequate to the task.

“They aren’t good eating and larger sharks like this spoil pretty easily. We can’t ice him. You didn’t want him for food, anyway, right?” I shook my head. I was pooped.

“Jack, if you can get him next to the boat, I can take a picture and you can release him if you want,” Kim said, helpfully. I nodded. In my mind’s eye, I could see a picture of this monster being held up by the tail, with me standing next to him, smiling in triumph. There was only one problem with that. We didn’t have a crane or wench or whatever it was that could lift it out of the water. I’d have to talk to Dane about his boat’s lack of the proper equipment.

Slack! Suddenly, the line went slack. There was no longer any bend in the pole, nor any resistance. I reeled furiously, until the bare end of the line hung in front of me, wet and dripping, but unattached to anything resembling a shark. “He’s gone,” I said.

“That’s it?” Bobby asked. “Just gone? What happened? You had pressure, right?”

“Clean break,” Cherry said, holding the steel leader up. “I don’t think he snapped it. I think he finally got it between his teeth.”

“You did good, Baby. Really good fight,” Kim said as I plopped down onto my butt.

‘Holy crap.” I was suddenly okay with it. “I had a good fight. We all saw that it was a hammerhead and probably about ten feet, right? No picture, but that’s okay. Dang, that was a lot of work.”

“Would you do it again for the same result?” Kim asked.

“Not today,” I laughed.

“In China,” Mei said, quietly. “People eat shark fin soup to make them more, um, more energetic in the bedroom,” she said, covering her mouth. She didn’t want us to see her smiling but her eyes said it.

“Well, Mei, now I’m disappointed I didn’t land him,” I said and everyone laughed. Mei was embarrassed and it was cute. I sat up in the captain’s seat and Kim handed me the Gatorade. “Well, that was humbling,” I said.

“Tiring. He was huge.”

“Definitely, a very big fish. They have small mouths for a shark, you know.”

“You know that because of an encyclopedia article?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I’m done, Baby. That wiped me out. I’m not in a hurry to go back in. Let me know when the time is right, though, okay?”

“Why don’t you throw a line in near the rocks and catch something a bit smaller? End on a good note.”

I switched poles and put shrimp on a smaller rig, tossing it close to the rocks. I caught three or four that way and Cherry said that Mei had enough sun for the day and they were ready to head back. I told him I wanted a tour of the port sometime and he said he could arrange it.

Cherry asked if he could take us back and I let him. He very definitely knew what he was doing. Back at The Cut, Kim went for the truck while Cherry lined up the boat and drove it onto the trailer. I watched for a change. I’d gotten a lot of practice with a variety of boats but Cherry was better than me. He was a lot better than me. Smooth. We secured the boat and set out in different vehicles. There’s a do-it-yourself carwash just off Folly Road and I pulled the boat into the stall. With six of us working, it didn’t take long to get Dane’s boat cleaned up. It was a lot easier than doing it at home and I wondered why Dane didn’t do it this way.

I invited everyone to my house for pizza. We agreed on a time and split up. When Kim and I got back to the house, I tried to back the boat into its parking spot but I couldn’t get it. Everything seemed backward to me and with nearly forty feet of boat and trailer, I didn’t have a lot of room for error.

“You’re not laughing,” I said.

“Nope. Been there. Once you mess up, it’s hard to turn things around. Want me to do it?”

“I want to do it, but my mind won’t wrap itself around the doggone problem.”

“Pull straight forward as far as you can.” She looked behind us, then rolled down her window and got out of the truck. “Pull forward as though you were trying to hit the trashcan with your right headlight.” I did that and she talked me through it but not without having to pull forward one more time.

I parked it and rolled up the window while Kim detached the trailer. “Dane needs to put this thing in the water and keep it there,” I said as we grabbed our stuff from the back of the truck.

“He needs to put a name on it. How can he have a boat with no name?” She put her hands on my shoulders. “You know the song, A Horse with No Name?” I nodded. “That’s bullshit. Everyone names their horse. How can Dane have a boat with no name?”

“Maybe it’s a Yankee thing,” I said, not believing that for a minute.

“Must be.”

Kim showered and changed while I made a big salad, ordered a pizza, and made sure we had drinks for everyone. I had just finished that when Kim came out, drying her hair.

“You’re beautiful, you know.”

“Right. Wet hair, no makeup, and whatever I had left in your mom’s closet. I don’t even remember buying this.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s Mom’s.”

“Oops.”

“I don’t think she would mind. Have you ever seen her wear it?”

The doorbell rang and we looked at each other. It had to be Cherry and Mei. It was too early for the pizza delivery and everyone else just opened the door and hollered. Kim put some tunes on while I answered the door, showing them the proper way to enter the Pierce residence. “Hello, the house,” I hollered, and they laughed.

The sound of Patsy Cline came from the rec room. I had learned to like her but I had a hunch she wouldn’t last long before we put something else on. Not everyone likes Patsy Cline.

“Nice house,” Cherry said.

“Oh, I love this,” Mei said, and I thought she meant the house. Nope. “I fall to pieces,” she sang, joining Patsy Cline in her lament. Coming from a tiny Chinese girl it seemed totally out of place.

We walked into the rec room and Kim and Mei started working their way through our record collection together. Cherry gave me one of those mystery looks, as if to say, who knew? Bobby and Mel showed up at the same time as the pizza. We were all starved and didn’t waste time opening dinner.

“Did you see on the news last night that some fourteen-year-old just graduated from UCLA?” Cherry asked.

“Overachiever,” I said, and Kim rolled her eyes at me.

“They interviewed him. He had a pretty good mustache going on, too.”

“That’s not even funny,” I answered.

Kim patted my arm. “I don’t think he knows how to swim, Sweetheart.”

“UCLA, huh. Who would want to go to UCLA? If he was so smart, why didn’t he pick a good school?” I asked and we all went back to eating our pizza.

It was quiet for a while, until Kim asked, “Do you really want to do a triathlon?”

Oh, oh. This sounded like one of those trap questions Franklin warned me about. “No.”

“What are your big plans for the summer?”

“Still trying to figure that out. I have a couple of ideas but nothing set.”

“When I said I didn’t want you to do one, I might have been a little hasty.”

Hmmm. “Does that mean you’d be okay with me doing one?”

“Could you do it like bowling? You know. Could you do it not caring who won or how fast you were? No. That’s a stupid question. If you did one, which one would you do? I guess what I mean is, how long would the race be? They have different lengths, right?”

“I don’t think I’d do a full-length race. They have one that’s half that distance down in Savannah. Marty is doing that one. At least he’s planning on it. I guess they have races that are even shorter.”

“The one in Savannah would only be a one-mile swim, and a thirteen-mile run, right?” she asked.

“Only? Only a one-mile swim and a thirteen-mile run? Dude, you’re nuts.” Cherry said.

“Welcome to Jack’s world,” Bobby said, casually, taking another bit of pizza. He knew me pretty well.

“How far is the bike ride?” Kim asked.

“It’s like fifty miles or something. Fifty-six, I guess.”

“And Marty says you need a better bike to do that?”

“My bike is just fine.”

“Dude, your bike is twenty years old,” Bobby said, and I wasn’t sure he was helping.

“Jack, you have the best bat you know of. Shoeless told you what was best and you bought it. Any regrets on that?” Kim asked. “We saw the guy whose goggles broke at a swim meet. That’s no good. How much is a good bike?”

“I’m not sure. I’m sure not going to spend a thousand bucks on one. Marty said he saw one he thought was really good for six hundred last week but I don’t think I’d need to spend that much money to get something decent.”

“Are they open on Sunday? The bike shop. Is it open tomorrow?”

“Probably. I think they do rentals and it’s the start of tourist season, so they’re probably open.”

“Don’t look at me,” Bobby said. “I swim because I can do it lying down. Running is like work. Biking hurts my butt. Nope, nope, nope.”

“You’re a goof,” Mel said “Eat some salad. It’s good for you.” He grabbed a single lettuce leaf.

“Don’t look at me, either. You’re on your own, Aquaman.”

“Thanks, Cherry.”

“I’m a relief pitcher. I barely have to do anything. Besides, when’s the last time you saw a pitcher run out to the mound?”

Kim was obviously enjoying this. “It’s a summer thing, right? You’re already a pretty good swimmer. You ran five miles with me and weren’t even breathing hard.”

“You’re right. How hard could riding a bike be?” I asked. Kim had never ridden a bike until last year and had almost ridden into traffic because she wasn’t paying attention.

“You think you’re funny. You’re really quiet, Mei. What are you thinking?”

She didn’t answer right away. She looked at Cherry and he nodded very slightly. “I go to an all-girl school. Ashely Hall is just for girls. I’m not used to conversation like this. It’s fun.”

“Good. You and Cherry talk all the time, though, right?” Kim asked.

“Of course, but you are...”

“We are, what?” Kim asked, almost laughing.

“My father would say you are very Héxié. He would say you are harmonious.”

“Ah. She’s the yin to my yang,” I said, and Mei covered her mouth and laughed.

“No, silly. But the idea is right. Yin and yang are more complicated than that.”

“Maybe Kim is both, then. She’s plenty complicated.”

“You think you’re funny.” Where had I heard that before?

“What would he say about us?” Mel asked.

“Oh, oh,” Bobby grumped.

“I think he would say you are lìng rén yúkuài de bù héxié,” she said and Cherry laughed.

“What does that mean?” Mel asked.

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Bobby said, holding up another tiny lettuce leaf, inspecting it before popping it in his mouth.

“It means that you are pleasantly disharmonious,” Cherry said and we all laughed.

“Yup. That’s us, alright. Pleasantly disharmonious,” Bobby said.

“I’m harmonious,” Mel said, objecting.

“Then, obviously, I’m pleasant.”

Mel started talking ninety miles an hour, obviously taking Mei’s comment seriously. Bobby watched her talk, then leaned over and kissed her. She tried to keep talking but he just kept kissing her until she stopped. When she did, he sat back like it was normal.

“See?” Mei said, the two of them had obviously just demonstrated what it meant to be lìng rén yúkuài de bù héxié.

“Sifu Chen hasn’t told Franklin or me any of this kind of stuff. I like it. It’s different.”

“Sifu Chen. Maybe, I know him, I think. No, maybe my father knows him. I think maybe I’ve met him. What does he look like.”

“Mei, don’t ask Jack that kind of question. He’s going to tell you he looks Chinese,” Cherry said, laughing.

“Now that you mention it, he does look sort of Chinese. What can I say? He’s shorter than me and I think he might be sixty or so. He has a kung fu school in West Ashley. Franklin and I have been taking lessons since the start of the school year.” It seemed like she was trying to place him but couldn’t. “He said he moved here because there are so many good Chinese restaurants.”

She laughed. “Ah, now, I know I have met him because he told that same joke. He is from Hong Kong. I remember now. There aren’t many Chinese in Charleston. I think when we moved here, my father met many of those who were here first. I think it’s customary, but I was young. I remember the restaurant joke, though.”

“What language do you speak at home?” I asked, and it probably seemed like it came out of the blue but Sifu Chen said that told a lot.

“Ha-ha. French.”

“French? That’s not right,” I said, caught completely off guard.

“I’ve been taking French in school and am going there this summer on an exchange program. My parents speak a couple of different languages so they’ve been helping me. Normally, we mostly speak English, but if Baba gets excited or has something complicated to say, he’ll switch to Chinese.”

“That’s crazy,” Kim said. “Cherry, are you fluent in Chinese?”

“No. Getting there. I’m not learning French, though.”

We talked until late again. Kim and I made plans to go to the Spokeworks the next day and we wrapped it up. I hit the sack and fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Mr. and Mrs. Edris would be home late Monday so I went through the house, cleaning things up. There wasn’t much to clean. After doing laundry and dishes, I went out to the yard to see if anything needed to be done. Hector kept it up and it looked like he’d been there recently. I checked the pool chemicals, made a couple of adjustments, cleaned the basket, and skimmed a few leaves and that was it.

Kim showed up at ten and drove us downtown to Spokeworks. We walked the aisles for a few minutes before one of the staff greeted us. When I told him I was thinking about doing a triathlon and had a Schwinn Continental and wanted to know if I should change bikes, he gave us a lesson. Holy cow, there was a lot to it.

We learned about frame geometry and how that affected your efficiency or comfort. We learned about the different components, he called a gruppo. Campagnola was the best but Shimano was making a lot of improvements. I got on a bike they had set up for fitting people. He adjusted the seat up and the handlebars forward.

“I’d love to sell you a De Rosa, Cinelli, Colnago or Basso, but you’ve never ridden a racing bike before and never done a tri before. What I’d rather do is sell you a good bike to get you started and have you come back next year and spend big bucks on what you know you want.”

“I like my Schwinn but let’s see what you’ve got,” I said and he smiled.

“Does your Continental have the suicide shifter? Is it here, on the seat tube?” I nodded. “If you’ve got room to store it, I’d keep it. I have a hunch they will become collector’s items. Just a hunch. I’d buy it from you today, if you wanted to sell it, but I don’t have room to store it. Give it twenty years.”

Interesting. I had the room. After looking at a variety of bikes, I settled on a 58CM Raleigh Team bike that looked brand new. Of course, I had to have special shoes to go with the Look pedals, a pair of gloves a spoke tool, patch kit, and a few more odds and ends. The bike looked good and it didn’t break the bank.

“No kickstand,” I said.

“Ouch. No. In your garage or under your butt. Put a kickstand on your bike that has a basket on the front. Here,” he said handing me a racing magazine. “It’s not enough to have a good bike and learn to ride. You have to know the language.”

“Give me the short version.”

“Real short. Swimmers. If you swim at a Master’s swim meet or something like that, swimmers are competitive but cooperative and they won’t judge you if you don’t drown or get in their way. Runners at the local 10K will stand around the starting line, complaining about their shins or feet or whatever, but when the gun goes off, they’re gone. Bikers are cutthroat. They aren’t cooperative and they don’t care about you or any of your stuff. If you have a couple of friends to ride with, that’s great. Don’t expect comradery at the start of a bike race. It’s every man for himself. Triathletes are more like swimmers in how they treat each other. Don’t ask me why.”

“Why? Thanks a lot. I bet if I read this magazine, I’m going to be in next week to buy a bunch of gadgets, aren’t I?”

“You broke the code. Want me to save you a trip and sell you a bike computer now? They aren’t real expensive and it will tell you how far and how fast you’ve ridden and your current speed.”

He put the bike onto a stationary training stand. I put on the Look shoes and climbed on. My feet snapped into the pedals and I was part of the bike. He taught me how to ‘pedal in circles’ rather than squares, then I practiced twisting my feet out of the pedals. You snapped your shoes down into the pedals and twisted them out. He said it was unnatural and I should practice it so I didn’t screw it up in an emergency. He put the little computer on it for me and I was good to go. I paid less than I’d planned on, we packed it into the back of Kim’s truck and drove back to my house.

We unloaded the bike in my driveway, Kim looked at me and said, “Go. You know you want to. Put on your special shoes and take it for a spin.”

I put my special shoes on and coasted to the bottom of the driveway, turned left, and started pedaling. It felt pretty good. It felt just like my Schwinn Continental, right until I decided to accelerate. Holy crap. It felt like a high-powered sportscar. I pedaled faster and checked the speedometer. I tried to pedal in circles, pulling back at the bottom and then up, not just forward, then down. By the time I got to the end of our long block, I was doing twenty-two miles an hour and it seemed effortless.

When I started my turn back, it felt ‘twitchy’ just like he said it would. He said it had steeper angles, and that made it faster, but it also made control very tight. I shifted gears up, then down, thoroughly enjoying the solid ka-chunk of the Campagnolo parts as I shifted. Everything about it felt tight. I shifted into a low gear and pedaled back up the driveway. I pulled even with Kim and went to put my foot down, but my foot was stuck in the pedal.

“Twist. Twist it out!” Kim said. I tried but I was falling. She stepped close and put her shoulder against mine. “Twist your foot out, you big dufus.”

I twisted my foot out. “Thanks. That’s going to take getting used to.”

“You should see your face. Go. Go call Marty and go for a ride. Ride like the wind.”

“Are you sure? You’re not mad at me or anything?”

“No, silly. I practically told you to buy it. Do you think I didn’t see this coming?”

“I think you are very harmonious.”

She shook her head, but she was laughing. “I’m going to go home and study for finals. I’m making Shepherd’s Pie for dinner if you want to come over. No grinning at dinner, though. You’re such a big kid.”

I kissed her then went inside to call Marty. Thirty minutes later, he rode up on his bike. He looked it over, pronounced it good, and we started riding. We’d gone about a mile when I followed him into a Piggly Wiggly parking lot. I pulled up next to him and twisted my foot out of the pedal. Easy.

“I just realized you probably don’t have experience riding with someone.” He was right. “I’ll give you some tips but I’ll probably forget a bunch. Drafting is illegal in most triathlons but it’s okay for training. The closer you are behind me, the better it works. I’ll use hand signals so we don’t crash. If there’s a pothole or a grate or something, I’ll point to the ground on the side of the problem. If I need to slow down, I’ll try to drop a hand first kind of like I’m waving. I might not have time. I’ll stop pedaling before I hit the brakes. If we bump wheels, there’s a pretty good chance someone is going to fall and it’s usually the guy in back.