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Subject: Friday Ride Retread Date: Sat, 5 Jun 1999 16:48:03 EDT
My Dear Freakwheelers,
Frankly, I wasn't sure how the day was going to turn out. The morning's activities, (the coffee, the dump, the kid delivery, etc.) had gone without a hitch. The weather was ok. The signs were good.
The first technical test came early in the journey. It was a matter of getting through a tricky spot quickly, efficiently, and with a modicum of grace. As usual, this depended upon split second decisions based upon visibility, presence of others, my reaction time, willingness to take a chance, etc. I had to interpret all of the signals correctly. One miscalculation would slow me down big-time possibly forcing me to stop. I approached the area alertlyfeet on the pedals ready for instant action. I touched the brakes, saw an opening and went for it. I ran through a couple of gears and discovered that I had cleared the whole thing faster than ever! It was very smooth. I was exhilarated. I knew the ride was going to be great.
Having successfully conquered the intersection of Monterey St. and The Alameda, I picked up Danny, and headed for Marin. Naturally, he paid the bridge toll. On the way , Danny informed me we were going up Repack.
Unpacking Repack
My stomach sank. I saw no escape. On the one hand, I was on record for having suggesting Repack on many occasions. But this time I didn't have Jim's certain veto to save my ass. A problem, given my oft stated "rule" that I never turn down an opportunity to do a hill.
And Repack is so damn infamous. Memories: The big downhill; the speed record held by Our Father Who Art in San Anselmo; my lunatic nephew doing the race on a sidecar. For years, I'd never heard of anyone who had gone up it, other than us a time or two. So, there was grumbling and gnashing of teeth. The Myth ruled!
A Diversion
We set off: Danny, El Presidente, Lisa, John, Mt. Val and me. The first incident was unusual. Danny's description didn't do it justice. We're waiting at the bottom for Mt. Val, who had been off the back with a mechanical. As she crosses the bridge, she stands up in the pedals, and I'm startled to see this black nub-thing between her legs at about waterline! How uncommon! I'm thinking she's gone and had the surgery without consulting us! Then before I can consider the ramifications of this, her legs part a bit, and her saddle goes squirting out the back. It seems she had gripped that puppy so hard that.well, you get the picture. Needless to say, all of the boys in the crowd quietly gulped in amazed trepidation at the possibilities. This woman's thunderous thighs had ripped apart a bike seat! We felt enticed, and yet sooo vulnerable.
Back to Repack
Mt. Val was in no mood to do a Cindy Whitehead, and bailed for a jogging alternative. We contemplated cannibalizing her before she left. Lisa only had a long-sleeved jersey. El Presidente offered to give Lisa his short sleeved Jersey, if he could wear Mt. Val's pink jogging bra up Repack. This looked like a winner, until we realized Val was indeed going jogging, and would need it more than El Presidente. So, we took Val's Jersey, gave it to Lisa, and went back to the task at hand.
As we started up, I determined that a conservative course of action was necessary. I went even slower, using every opportunity for recovery. I was holding back for the final rocky bit. But it turned out to be in vain. I never could have made the top piece. So, it was like going without sex for a month in preparation for a little nooky with Susan Sarandon. Saving it all for an impossible wet dream! (But the rest of Repack was a piece of cake.)
El Presidente Prematurely Remits Gooey Substance.
Somewhere about this time the discussion turned to the Giro, and El Presidente handed over a Gu to Danny. It seems Danny had bet on the Pirate, and El Presidente bet on everyone else. Apparently the Dumbo-eared bald man didn't need the feather to fly. He was going to triumph, so El Presidente conceded defeat, and handed over the Gu. Well, as we all know by now, Pantani was caught with too many red cells, and booted from the race. Now what? I approached Danny with this moral dilemma. By all rights, he should return El Presidente's Gu, plus another for losing the bet. But Danny countered that El Presidente had conceded, and thus it was too late. (Of course, he didn't actually use the term "thus".) I suggested that we wouldn't have held Truman to that same standard if he had conceded to Dewey but to no avail. Danny refused to budge. I quickly called El Presidente, informed him of Danny's treacherous remarks, and offered to take El Presidente's case pro-boner. We decided that, before litigation, we would wage a serious PR campaign in the court of public opinion. So for the time being, it's in your hands. Let your voices be heard! Can we democratically (and fairly) reach consensus that Danny is totally guilty again? Shall we sit by while he ostentatiously flosses his teeth with that damned pipecleaner?
Epic-Hurryin' Delight for Michael and Danny
We then determined that we needed to go to the coast, so after bidding adieu to El Presidente, we headed for Alpine Dam, via Oat Hill and Old Vee. Followed by a spirited ride up from Alpine Dam to Wedding Rock. I've got to say, I am often astonished at the reaction of some to that route. They get stuck on the idea that it is pavement, and can't get beyond that. In fact, it is a wonderful climb, full of opportunities to try different techniques, and containing the best visuals available.
At Wedding Rock ,Lisa and John headed for parts on the northern side that shall remain unsaid. Danny and I scooted down to the coast, via Pantol and Coastal. The return up Deer Park was routinely exquisite. Stagecoach and upper Railroad Grade deposited us at the top of Eldridge-the descent of which irritated Danny. For me, it was nice to be gliding over those rock faces for a change. As a mindless aggravation, Danny suggested that we head back via the pumphouse because he was "tired of the lake." We did that, and made it back to the car by 5:30. Danny said that was overtime. I replied that it wasn't, since we hadn't really started until 9:30. But Danny prevailed by saying that we were on our bikes doing the lot loops at 9:00, and therefore had worked overtime. I agree. An 8-hour day is enough. Someone owes us.
Stats: 48 miles 6280 feet of climbing A gooey mess involving organized gambling interests The mystery of where Lisa and John went
Stay tuned for future Ride Retorts including: Confessions of a Cross-Stresser; Basking Beneath Birds of Prey; A Pair o' Toe Clips Now!; and other brewing delights.
Respectfully submitted
Michael/Franco