Or maybe it’s the opposite.
I just received a slightly fuller version of the image below today. It’s a box of beer from my friend Erik. Erik brews his own beer and shares freely with those who he knows loves the stuff (and will fill out tasting sheets). He is also a cycling buddy and a fierce climber who has most likely helped shorten my life by several months over the past few years by trying to hold his wheel.
I probably should be asking why he is loading me up with beer, but I find it hard to question his motives, at least until the box is empty.
The Vicious Cycle 
Man, that dude is a jerk forcing that beer on you!
You forgot to mention that you actually helped to brew that batch – thanks for the help.
And I have no idea what you’re talking about with all this uphill wheel sucking business. I don’t think I’ve ever beaten you up a hill.
Santé!
You’re too kind, but your memory needs help. There’s at least one Puy and a few cols in the Alps that you creamed me on, not to mention various local Cévennes montées. Not that I’m keeping track…
The beer is great, by the way. I think I’m getting attached to the honey porter.
Home brewed beer….more damnable than dynamite.
The worst part of this beer is that I don’t even get a hangover. What incentive do I have now not to drink…?
Do you need one?