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Okay, so I have become fixated on young girls in lycra. This is bad? A definition if I may from Webster. "Fixation - n - A strong, often unhealthy attachment or preoccupation. - fixate - v."
Doesn't seem unhealthy to me!
Anyway, I arrived at my favorite local trail last night around 4 pm with Fat [email protected] in tow. The hardtail is in the shop getting a new cog and chain and general adjustments to the deraillurers. I saw one other rider across the parking lot doing something with his bike. We waved and I was off for a solo repeat of Sunday's interrupted ride. (remember the one with laughing bears and broken chains? No? Read my post entitled "Hardtails and Mountain Lions" if you care for details. If you don't, don't.)
I limited myself to a nice one hour loop over the usual technical terrain. We had experienced some impressive lightning and thunder storms the previous evening and I did not want to be caught too far from the car.
I finished on a new to me trail that ended in a climb over rocks out of the trees that dumped you on the eastern side of the parking lot. As it turned out, directly into a crowd of seven riders preparing to ride. One was the person I had waved to earlier.
It was hard to avoid conversation if I had wanted to so we conversed and they asked if I wanted to join them. Sure. The storm had still not arrived so I'd chance it.
The leader by default introduced me to everyone and I promptly forgot everyone's names except a girl I will call Bev. I called her Bev because her name was Bev. You thought I had other reasons? The leader said I would probably spend my ride following her.
"She is that fast?" I asked. "No, its the view" he replied.
At that point the eight of us began. No one wanted to start on the rail trail that required a mile of pedaling through gravel so we rode directly on dirt and rocks. Just because of where I was standing I was third in the line. I was warmed up and had no trouble keeping up even if I was the oldest in the group by almost eight years. Age gave me an excuse to hang back if I so desired or was forced to by lack of conditioning.
The bikes involved were a mix of hardtails and FS. Some expensive, some not. Bev was riding a rigid Cannondale with canti brakes. It always amazes me how practical female riders are because she was the first person to pass me without the help of an expensive up-to-the-minute most technical machine. Rigid or not she could ride. I followed closely behind as the leader predicted. I passed her again on a climb and we conversed for a while. Nice person as it turned out. Being nice trumps having a nice bike. Trumps most things to me.
We continued a generally upward ride for a few miles and I slowly made my way to the back of the pack. This was not by design. This was by reality.
When we got to where we were going we gathered up when a cell phone interupped the group. What the Hell? Sh!t, its mine. I carry the phone for emergencies and keep it turned off or so I thought. It was my son, REV III. Maybe he was in the parking lot with his bike looking for me. If so, I would leave the group and join him but he was looking for a phone number of his grandmother who had recently moved and changed phones. I gave him the information, apologized to everyone, turned off the phone and we were off on a trail they called the "Waterfall." No, it is called the "Drop of Despair" I told them. That is the official name because I wrote a story for Dirt Rag and mentioned it and the trails that followed by name. (My names but better than the Blue Trail or White Trail or other names given by the County Park Commission). They agreed with my names. Drop of Despair, Devil's Rock Garden, Satan's Climb and the Fire Road from Hell. By the way, Dirt Rag never actually published that story but they have published others I wrote so I left it there.
A few rode the complete Drop of Despair but most of us didn't. Off camber, eroded, full of loose and big rocks it was not easy. All walked at least part of the Devil's Rock Garden, some dismounted for tree falls on Satan's Climb and we eventually regrouped for the Fire Road from Hell. Warnings were given to those who had not ridden it to take care. It was long, steep, and dangerous. I am not sure if anyone made the whole two miles but no one had any major crashes that day. The leader had dislocated his shoulder previously on this very road and knew of its dangers.
Finally, after an hour and a half we finished where we had begun. All begged off any further rides and plans were made to meet again next Wednesday.
The storm did not show up until I arrived home and was nowhere near as bad as the day before with no tornado warnings or dangerous lightning.
I'm looking forward to next week and hope you enjoyed the ride.
Peace
Doesn't seem unhealthy to me!
Anyway, I arrived at my favorite local trail last night around 4 pm with Fat [email protected] in tow. The hardtail is in the shop getting a new cog and chain and general adjustments to the deraillurers. I saw one other rider across the parking lot doing something with his bike. We waved and I was off for a solo repeat of Sunday's interrupted ride. (remember the one with laughing bears and broken chains? No? Read my post entitled "Hardtails and Mountain Lions" if you care for details. If you don't, don't.)
I limited myself to a nice one hour loop over the usual technical terrain. We had experienced some impressive lightning and thunder storms the previous evening and I did not want to be caught too far from the car.
I finished on a new to me trail that ended in a climb over rocks out of the trees that dumped you on the eastern side of the parking lot. As it turned out, directly into a crowd of seven riders preparing to ride. One was the person I had waved to earlier.
It was hard to avoid conversation if I had wanted to so we conversed and they asked if I wanted to join them. Sure. The storm had still not arrived so I'd chance it.
The leader by default introduced me to everyone and I promptly forgot everyone's names except a girl I will call Bev. I called her Bev because her name was Bev. You thought I had other reasons? The leader said I would probably spend my ride following her.
"She is that fast?" I asked. "No, its the view" he replied.
At that point the eight of us began. No one wanted to start on the rail trail that required a mile of pedaling through gravel so we rode directly on dirt and rocks. Just because of where I was standing I was third in the line. I was warmed up and had no trouble keeping up even if I was the oldest in the group by almost eight years. Age gave me an excuse to hang back if I so desired or was forced to by lack of conditioning.
The bikes involved were a mix of hardtails and FS. Some expensive, some not. Bev was riding a rigid Cannondale with canti brakes. It always amazes me how practical female riders are because she was the first person to pass me without the help of an expensive up-to-the-minute most technical machine. Rigid or not she could ride. I followed closely behind as the leader predicted. I passed her again on a climb and we conversed for a while. Nice person as it turned out. Being nice trumps having a nice bike. Trumps most things to me.
We continued a generally upward ride for a few miles and I slowly made my way to the back of the pack. This was not by design. This was by reality.
When we got to where we were going we gathered up when a cell phone interupped the group. What the Hell? Sh!t, its mine. I carry the phone for emergencies and keep it turned off or so I thought. It was my son, REV III. Maybe he was in the parking lot with his bike looking for me. If so, I would leave the group and join him but he was looking for a phone number of his grandmother who had recently moved and changed phones. I gave him the information, apologized to everyone, turned off the phone and we were off on a trail they called the "Waterfall." No, it is called the "Drop of Despair" I told them. That is the official name because I wrote a story for Dirt Rag and mentioned it and the trails that followed by name. (My names but better than the Blue Trail or White Trail or other names given by the County Park Commission). They agreed with my names. Drop of Despair, Devil's Rock Garden, Satan's Climb and the Fire Road from Hell. By the way, Dirt Rag never actually published that story but they have published others I wrote so I left it there.
A few rode the complete Drop of Despair but most of us didn't. Off camber, eroded, full of loose and big rocks it was not easy. All walked at least part of the Devil's Rock Garden, some dismounted for tree falls on Satan's Climb and we eventually regrouped for the Fire Road from Hell. Warnings were given to those who had not ridden it to take care. It was long, steep, and dangerous. I am not sure if anyone made the whole two miles but no one had any major crashes that day. The leader had dislocated his shoulder previously on this very road and knew of its dangers.
Finally, after an hour and a half we finished where we had begun. All begged off any further rides and plans were made to meet again next Wednesday.
The storm did not show up until I arrived home and was nowhere near as bad as the day before with no tornado warnings or dangerous lightning.
I'm looking forward to next week and hope you enjoyed the ride.
Peace
