An open letter to male cyclists

Dear Male Cyclists,

I understand that today marks the summer solstice, and that this celestial event ignites a desire in each and every one of you: to remove your jersey and let your flesh bask in the glory of the sun in honor of this special day.

I'm asking you to please, for my sake and the sake of female cyclists everywhere, please reconsider this act. (Unless you're Andy Schleck, in which case, please indulge.)

Seriously guys? It was 82°F today. This is not an unreasonable level of heat, nor was it terribly humid. (In fact, it was kind of breezy and partly cloudy.) I was perfectly fine wearing my sports bra, jersey, and camelbak with five pounds of water and food on my back. Surely you could manage to endure a simple jersey for our sake?

I guess that's asking too much, because over the course of my 39-mile ride through Lake Orion and surrounding areas today I encountered a number of shirtless male cyclists, much to my dismay. I will now attempt to catalog the various species of shirtless men a girl can encounter on a ride, so as to better help you folks recognize which category you fall into and (more importantly) prevent future incidents.

• The dad: this variety is most often found riding casually down the street in khaki or denim shorts, sans helmet, accompanied by a child (or children). Often possessing a protruding gut and receding hairline, these are the least pleasant to look at, but do not pose a great risk.
• The senior citizen: this safety-oriented cyclist has many of the same physical features of the dad (gut, lack of hair, et al) with the addition of wrinkles, but is mindful to wear a helmet with an attached mirror. He rides in bike shorts (but not bibs) which do not flatter the older figure. Like the dad, the senior citizen is not particularly harmful to anything other than the retinas, and as such poses little risk.
• The roadie: the worst offender, these men neglect ONLY the jersey from their cycling attire. Even their cycling caps and mid-calf socks remain. In my imagination, these cyclists were wearing a full zip jersey at the beginning of their ride, but when fully unzipped it began to flutter so violently in the wind that it removed itself from the cyclist, who couldn't be bothered to stop and retrieve it. These men are dangerous because when they pass you (as they invariably will, being competitive, and generally faster than you), you will be sprayed with a disgusting mist of sweat. Additionally, the sun has a tendency to reflect off his pasty-white torso and blind you. I urge you to take precaution and utilize protective eyewear.
• The triathlete: essentially like the roadie, but wearing a silly aero helmet instead of a cycling cap, and slightly less pasty-white. Carries the same risk of sweat-mist.
• The fred: this threat can possess the appearance of the roadie, but may also be an amalgamation of each type. This shirtless rider is unpredictable. He may try to pass you, only to be caught up with at the next hill, each time leaving the sweat-mist for you to run into. He may also pass you never to be seen again, in which case, consider yourself lucky for only having to endure one bout of sweat-misting.

Well, men, there you have it. You now know how to identify your shirtless self and how to right the problem. (Hint: put on a jersey!)

Much appreciated,

Carrie