Once again I neglected to bring a geared bike and as usual, I paid a small price for it. Josh and Adam were in good form. Adam did the bulk of the pulling/wind buffering so let’s throw some domestique laurels on his head. We rode the shorter loop but ended up finishing with the longer loop riders due to an unscheduled train interruption. Lots of interesting graffiti and I assume a hobo skeleton or two hidden deep within the recesses of those rickety boxcars. “They ride the rails and consume their young…” Highlight of the ride was watching Joshie outsprint a father and son on a tandem. Intense. I’ll try and be more social next week to any riders who read this claptrap. Let’s have a chat about any topic, your choice! Might I suggest something controversial? The confederate flag? The federal debt? Whether or not the “Dark Tower” will ever be made into a movie? Whether Ron Howard’s recent involvement with the new Sarah Silverman sitcom means he has officially given up on making “Dark Tower”, thus snuffing out the hopes of millions of weird Stephen King fans everywhere?
We missed the first group roll out so we chilled with the “cool kids”. Good turnout. Guy directly in front was on a wacky purple/blue Klein. He gave me a throat slitting motion and then big-ringed it into that street sign 20 feet ahead.
Adam steels his soul for lung searing mayhem. Wish my point and shoot has steeled it’s freaking auto-focus instead of lapsing into “Camera Obscura” mode
We play the 12th Street game of “catch the group” after we were split yet again at another stoplight. Joshie is wearing the newly re-designed Cane Creek kit. Give them a call and order yours… TODAY!
The neverending chase. Adam is still on the front pegging it. One lonely rider ahead dangles like a (late edit). I seem to remember a chunk of rock being flung from Joshie’s rear wheel right as I was shooting this, nearly wrecking, unbeknownst to my riding partners. Dig that jazzy Cane Creek kit!
The aforementioned train. We sat and discussed our options. 1) Wait it out? 2) Ride down a frontage road? 3) Ritual seppuku? 4) Double back to the start? In the end, the train moved and I re-sheathed my pocket-sized Tanto blade. There would be no seppuku on this group ride (for now). We rode along and the group eventually caught up to us. This is where the inexplicable attacks started. One after the other, like lighting bugs flashing their mysterious glowing abdomens on a sultry August night, the dayglo yellows of baggy MS150 jerseys flashed within my peripheral vision. Tired of this onslaught of randomness, Joshie attacked a father and son on a tandem bike. As we scream past them, the child’s muffled sobs can be heard under his father’s last, dying breath. No, that is hyperbole, but if the father had been a consumptive factory worker from the 1890s and not a physically fit cyclist with access to modern health care, then he most certainly would’ve met his maker. I look forward to seeing this tandem next week and apologizing on behalf of Joshie and the company that was plastered alllllll over his kit!