being pushed around by colleagues, i realised that the legs of a worn out rider are far more interesting than arms raised with some bowl of silver or what ever.
'tighten up your legs fränk' i yelled.
'tight'em up real good man!' i insisted.
he didnt even look at me.
the muscles on his thighs though - they grew a little and you could see his veins move to the beat of his heart.
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