I came off of the Porcupine Rim Trail, and onto the highway, just as a pack of roadies went by. I was heading back to to town, in order to get the truck and come back for the others. So, I sprinted up to the back of the paceline and enjoyed the draft.
As the first rider fell back, to let the next guy take his pull, he saw me hanging on the wheel of the guy in front of me. I figured he would fall in behind me, and I would eventually work my way to the front and take a pull, myself. It was the least I could do to pay them back for pulling me along at 22 miles per hour.
Instead, the rider fell in beside the rider in front of me. That rider stood and put on a little burst of speed, and our former leader fell in between us. I was still hanging on the back of the pack.
One by one, the riders in the paceline fell back, and pulled the same move. All the while, the group accelerated. We had sped up to about 25 mph by the time the parking lot came into view. I could see my truck, and I was about to pull off and stop, when the current leader of the pack looked over his shoulder to check and see where I was. It was obvious that these guys really didn't like to have a dirty mountain biker hanging with them.
So, I did the only right thing: I stood up and sprinted as hard as I could, to the front of the pack. At that point, the seven roadies all stood and sprinted for all they were worth. I hit the brakes, and pulled off at my truck.
I was pretty spent from the effort of that last sprint, but it was worth it to watch those other guys defend their "honor" like that.