- “Hey man, whassup? You got a dollar?”
- “How far do they ride?” “Wow! How fast?” “Wow!”
- “Eat shit. Aahahaha I’m just kidding!”
- “Freeeeeeeeeee biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiird!”
- “DO A WHEELIE!”
- “How much is that bike? I’ll trade you.”
- “What’re all of you doin’ out here?”
These are just some examples of the comments, unsolicited vocalizations, and peer-to-peer interactions one might expect from the “local color.” Now Randos is a broad term we’ll narrow it down for our purposes. What we’re talking about when we talk about Randos are the scalawags, gadabouts, rascals, partiers, burnouts, rapscallions, hedonists, wanderers, sundowners, breezers, recreation-opportunists, and chillers that are just… there, man. They appear without rhyme, reason or warning and disappear just the same. And while the hardcore fans and circumstantial observers tend to behave as expected: lining the road and cheering when the riders pass, the Rando is attracted to any party like moths to a light. And what is the Professional Road Racing spectacle, if not a party? I mean you have groups of people coming together for socialization and entertainment, what more is required?