“Could have fooled me,” I mumble as I rotate the knob to loosen the post and drop it down. I raise an eyebrow at her to see if she plans on stepping closer so I can measure the seat for her, but she just continues to mean-mug me. So, I eyeball the height, shrug when it looks good enough, and then hop back onto my bike and start the warmup program. Eventually, she reaches out and readjusts the seat. Up. Down. And then settles on the exact same spot I had it in the first place. Stubborn.
