“What do you mean a hybrid.”
It’s a hybrid. It’s a bike that is both a road bike and a mountain bike.
“You live in a city. Why do you need something for the mountain? You don’t even know where the mountains are. Why didn’t you just get a city bike?”
It’s a hybrid bike. This way I don’t have to worry if I decide to go off-roading. If I do, I know that the bike will handle it?
“Off-Roading? You don’t even know what that means! Handle it? Is this why you have these yellow springs on there for?”
Miguel, mira, it’s a hybrid. The guy said it would be a good idea for me to buy it since I didn’t really know what kind of biking I was going to be doing. Who cares?
“Who cares? The guy sold you a bi-sexual bike.”
A bi-sexual bike?
“Si. A bi-sexual bike. You own a bi-sexual bike. You’re going to be riding down the street and people are going to say, ‘Oh, look at that man with the bi-sexual bike. He just can’t make up his mind.’ You’re embarrassing the good name Guatemalans have made for themselves by riding this thing. It’s horrible.”
It’s not that bad.
“You have a fucking water bottle on your bike! Where are you going that is so far that you’re going to have to reach down and get a drink? What are you doing?”
It’s a water bottle. I got it for free.
“And this helmet? Didn’t you have that same helmet when you were in the 3rd grade? Is that a bell? You have a bell?”
Hombre, it came with the bike.
“You are this close to losing your Latino card. Do NOT think that I won’t take it away. If anyone asks you, tell them that you’re from Argentina. I can’t believe that I’m still friends with you.”
With this, Miguel grabbed two apples out of my fridge and walked out of my house, but not before giving my bi-sexual bike a death stare. It’s a hybrid…