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Wednesday, November 15

Not the "New Bike Day" I wanted... Part 3

Damn.

I'm used to being the early bird getting the worm.  This time, I'm behind in the planning.  I know most of the wild ideas that were made last night were probably drowned in beer.  DOA.

What's this?

A message from someone smart enough to not stay out all night.

"Where you riding?"

I have no idea.  Not a time.  Not a place.  I feel bad that I'm not gonna get to ride with this guy, but I don't wanna drag anyone into this potential shit show.

A post on the team page on FaceBook.  A ride that's happening, but probably sooner than I can get my act together.  That person left the party at a reasonable time.

A text.  Mills.

"Wanna ride Rocky Branch and then all the way over to Poston and back?"

I agree but really have no idea what I'm getting myself into.

The weather looks as dismal as it does promising.  Cold, but not too cold.  A chance of drizzle, but not enough to discourage me from going out on New Bike Day for a ride.  I grab all my shit and remember that I barely ate anything the day before, so I make myself a sammich as Mills pulls into the driveway.

We drive over the South Main Cycles, park the car... get dressed.   The skies are grayer than my tainted brain.  We wait for someone else to show up (Don?  I'm terrible with names).  We head over to Rocky Branch.  It's in the mid-40°s.  Ride most of Rocky Branch and then Mills leads us towards the South Fork Trail.  I know it's about six miles to Poston... in a car.  No idea how long this ride will be.

I'm hungry.  I brought no food.  My water bottle has... water in it.  Meh.

Meet up in the parking lot with Ethan, I eat one of Mills' foodstuffs, and we all head out into some sort of misting precipitation.  I put on my Gore vest.  We're getting moist.

A joyous ride, but as we kept moving, the mist became a piss and then a good drizzle.  Every time we stop, I actually feel the cold and the stupid exposed flannel sleeves are starting to stick to my arms.

We finish with the trails on the side of lower Spencer Mountain, roll into the parking lot, stand there in the piss drizzle discussing what to do.  Don planned his foods as poorly as I did.  He was dying a slow death.  Mills' left crank arm was falling off.  Ethan had enough getting wet.  There was room in his vehicle for one, so Don took the seat while Mills and I rode back towards the shop.

It never really felt like it was raining, but parts of me are certainly soaked.  The temps have dropped down to 40° and the sads are settling in.  Mills and I chat occasionally.  Sometimes, we're just quiet.

My hands hurt.

"Do you wanna cut right down the railroad tracks and avoid a big road climb?"

"Meh."

Mills takes that as an affirmative.    We jostle down the tracks in a way that reminds me of La Ruta, except that my hands are throbbing from being soaked and cold and now tossed all over the place.  By the time we get back to the shop, it's almost 5:00PM.  Ooops.  Had we tried to finish all the trails at Poston, we woulda been riding back on the road... in the dark... with only the borrowed from Don dangle scrotum blinky light keeping us safe.

One quick beer at The Station and a bag of chips, and we drive back to Charlotte after one of the most epic rides I've ever done 45 minutes from my house.

It was a good day... heated seats are pretty sweet.

The only image I took all day because I didn't wanna replace another water damaged phone.

That's solid waste bubbling up there.  I don't know if it was meant to be decorative or not.

4 comments:

Glen Evans said...

that is pretty funny, i thought you were talking about that thing on your top tube.ha~!

jay said...

you totally left out the part where i harassed y'all on the way to the branch. and the other guy is Jon. you were close.

Anonymous said...

Heated bike seats will be all the rage at Interbike Tahoe now. You're a genius!

Gary said...

how you get taint breath?