Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Monday Team Ride

I have been asked to provide a report of Monday’s Ride.  When I was asked I pointed out that not every ride deserves a report, that some rides are just rides.  But then I was told I was wrong, dead wrong, as I had forgotten the one thing that JM’s obsession with Rapha was supposed to have taught me – that every time you get on a bike – it’s epic.  Of course, it’s more epic if you are wearing Rapha clothing and sporting a beard that would put lumberjacks and Portland baristas to shame, but still, it’s epic.  Every g-d time.  So here is my ride report.

Team Ride – Monday Bloody Monday

Monday started out as just like any other ordinary Monday.  Wake up, scratch my ass, regret my weekend.  A story as old as time itself.

I rolled over, picked up my phone and checked my Facebook astrology chart.  A 1-star day.  Just my fuckin’ luck.  Then I checked AM’s Instagram account.  Another picture of a cat doing something cute.  Doesn’t that guy ever get tired of taking those pictures?  After that, a weather check.  Damn.  Rain, thunderstorms, more rain.  It was time to check the Rules – yup, they were the same as they had always been.  Rule 5, Rule 9 - HTFU and any ride in bad weather, blah, blah blah.  I guess it was time to throw the bike in the car and prepare for my 5 pm meeting with destiny.

The day wore on, I tried to hydrate and prepare myself.  I checked the sky warily.  Sure enough, the one time that hottie TV weather girl is right this century – dark clouds roll in, rain follows.  Throw in some wind and a threat of thunderstorms and you have the perfect recipe for a shit ride.  The day lurched forward like Martin Sheen making his way up the river to meet Marlon Brando, except this time I was the fat, crazy one waiting at the end.  And sure enough, the end came.  It was finally 5 pm – time to thrown on the bibshorts, tape my knuckles and roll out to meet the team at Bike Hub.  Of course, I say “team” but what a rag-tag group of lovable ragamuffins – all with rap sheets as long as their arms and the only heart of gold was the one TC was rumored to have cut out of a hooker in Reno after a bad spill in the Flatlands Downhill Gravity Challenge in ’99. 

Yeah, the hardcore part of the gang was there – BH, PO'N, AM, TC & JB – but to our surprise, the bad weather wasn’t.  For some reason the weather had finally decided to give us a break, unlike every dame we ever met.  The sun came out, the clouds parted and all of sudden, there was reason for one more bit of false hope in this stinking place we call Earth.  Also, another surprise showed up, a young rider, AL, who spends his day on the pedals transporting foot-long sandwiches where ever white people need hoagies.  And one last surprise, JM, one of his several children in tow, not ready to ride a bike, but just looking to score a beer in the false expectation that he wasn’t surrounded by hard men fully aware of our obligation to ride come hell or high water.  We told JM to sod off and we rolled away from the curb.

And then, we rode our bikes. 

It was really a nice time.  We talked and rode along a reasonable pace and had a very lovely time.  Then afterwards we had a beer.  It was really a nice way to end the day.  You should all come join us next week!

Ta ta for now!

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