My old local. Many afternoons there post-climb, or with Emile, Jo, and others. So much coffee drunk in this sitting, Emile said I was shouting at anything with wheels. “Trolley man! Why one upside-down on top of trolley? Gravity change?” Also, there was a bike across the street with a pineapple on the handlebars. We decided like a bell but full of lemon juice that would squirt the rider in the eyes. “Oooo! Self Sabotage!“ Also, many boxer engines going braaap, just for me. Also, Old woman all dressed in white, white hair, driving an Italian Red, Fiat 500 Abarth, peeling off from the corner. Five coffees. Is too many?