Tuesday, I missed one of the biggest night rides of the year, but Worm was kind enough to tell me how great it was....BASTARD! While I boiled like a stew in my poli-sci class, apparently fun was had by all. We'll see if the Big One writes a post about it. I would REALLY love to get more details.
Wednesday, I rolled out of my house at one o'clock to a cloudless sky. It was a perfect day, except for the thirty nine degree temp and the twenty mile an hour wind. Worm informed me that he and a few of his "cool friends" were doing some kind of lactic circle jerk (to calibrate their Garmin, global, microwave ovens) and that I wouldn't enjoy it. He suggested that I should: "go solo"..ahem..BBBBAAAASSSSSTTTAAARRRDDDD!!!!
I started out like a champion with every stitch of cold weather gear I could pull over my head and up my legs. Fern, out to the Alford and back, with no worries. The cold was starting to set in by the time I got back to Blairestone. I headed back into the wind, feeling like someone was holding my seat post, as I fought the nor'easter. Middle ring, fourth cog, all the way back to Woodgate.
Thursday, I got up early, and put my light on the charger, in anticipation of a night ride with my beloved crew. I was at work by seven, and noticed a peculiar smell in my office. After investigating all my audio gear piece by piece, I found that something was cooking inside my mixing console. I removed it and did the patching to bypass it. The clock was at Ten and I sat down to begin editing. After burning a disc, and handing it over to my boss to be duplicated, we discovered that the audio on the disc was corrupted. I went back into the computer, and deleted the last two hours of work, got a new stack of blank c.d.'s, reloaded my software and started again. While I was previewing a new disc, my C.D. player gave up the ghost. After a quick run to Best Buy, I put the new player (Sony DVD with 1080i up scan for $89.00!!!!!) into the rack. It worked great, but now I couldn't get audio from my computer! SWEET!!! Another hour of checking cables, reinstalling audio patches, and I was back to where I was at ten A.M. But not an obscenity was hurled in anger, because my battery was charged, and I was going to go on a night ride with the crew. Nothing can cure the soul of it's ills, like a ride with friends. Ahhhh, I could feel the stress drifting away as my phone rang. Big Worm didn't even have the common f*#+ing decency to say hello. The low guttural giggle coming out of my phone signaled doom. Everybody had great reasons not to ride tonight. SWEET!! Worm did regale me with tales of how awesome the previous nights ride was. Thanks Man, f*^# off and die like a dog.
While cussing at traffic on my way home, I got a call from one of my Cobra Kai friends, and a ride was set. We rolled out of his place around four thirty. The Barrister comes out of his house in baggies (sans leg warmers) and a long sleeve mesh Cobra Kai jersey. "Not to worry!" Says he! "There's a cotton t-shirt underneath and I will be fine."
I was wearing a cool max base layer, tights with shorts over top, arm warmers, a long sleeve jersey, shell vest, skull cap, two pairs of socks, and my cold weather wind stopper gloves. I was cold, and apparently quite amusing to my substitute riding chum.
I may as well get this out of the way now....BASTARD!!
We rolled out and I was still muttering under my breath about my f-ing crew, f-ing school, f-ing job, and...f-ing WORM! but all was healed, as we hit the Fern. We settled into a pace and out on Caddy my bar certified pal springs a leak. No prob, I got a tube and a pump (you know, in case me, or one of my riding buddies, gets a flat) and we started to change the wilted rubber. I watched as my cohort did his best imitation of a chimp, sexually molesting a greased beach ball, until we surmised he was rolling on a tubeless rim and the tires he bought had the molecular stiffness of a space shuttle tile. No prob, I have tire irons (you know, in case you have to change a tire on the trail) we pried and prodded and changed the tire. Bloody knuckled and hopeful, we soldiered on.
The sun was setting, like molasses in the sky, as we crossed the levy. A quick loop of Alford and back to Fern we cruised under the bridge and someone shut off the lights. I got out my white cane and we used "The Force" to get back to Democrat Hill, all the while thinking of my charged five hundred dollar light, back home on the counter. Did I mention that I charged it so I could go on a night ride with my beloved crew? Sorry... I digress: My co-rider couldn't feel his feet or legs by now, and was pretty sure one of his fingers had fallen off, somewhere by Tom Brown. I wondered to myself why he wasn't laughing, because the humor certainly wasn't lost on me. His plan to "start out cold" and "finish freezing your kiwi's off" was working exactly as he had hoped. I would have been laughing, except for the ice blocks (that were once feet) and the fingers (that were frozen to the brake levers) preventing my self righteous snicker.
Two hours, forty five minutes, of ride time (minus the flat). I got home to a warm dinner and started composing an add for new friends on Craig's list:
"Riders needed, tire changing skills required, must not be dicks, no Garmin's allowed. Log skills optional. BASTARDS!!! need not apply.
Bikes are great.