Telltale Hearts

I rewrapped my bars in anticipation of the bumpy 100miler... here it is: Left before, and Right after adding a layer of cork tape on the ramps and flats. Like an anaconda swallowing a pig.



Friday saw a late start to the Birfday Ride. No surprises there. In the future, I will lie about starting at 6am, so we can actually hit the road at 8am. It's always been the joke about having to overhaul a bottom bracket real quick-like before we set out...but Mr. D____ G___ has set the bar higher by showing up with a shaky BB, loose cones in the front, and maladjusted brakes. To his enduring credit, none of this phased him. Though I admire his level of commitment, that's hard to ignore. I did not want to open the hub, as we were behind already and that can be a time suck, snowballing into more. I thought we'd tighten the BB cups- the nondrive was tight but the driveside crank threads were partially stripped, so nope. We did adjust the brakes for maximum stopping power, since we roll so fast. Time for a safety break, and then the mean streets of Carmel-by-the-Sea.



In order to make our 4pm meeting in Santa Cruz, we skipped several dirt options. It was up and over the hill for sneaky goodness right away, and a beer stash.


And out Hwy 68 to Gen Jim Moore because we skipped Fort Ord due to time constraints (Bummer).

Bike path up to Castroville. At the turnoff by Pezzini Farms, I attempted to outsprint a semi. The driver took offense, and really gunned it to catch me at the entrance to the path. I shook my fist at him, and he stopped the truck and blew his horn when we did not stop to -what? Fight in the street?
Kook.
Time for another beer.

Then it was Elkhorn Slough.

We rolled into Watsonville from the South. Burrito and beer stop. D. G___ thought to ride Hazel Dell, however time was not for us but against us, so it was roll on after stopping at Casserly to get safe and have a beer.

Casserly is a treasure trove! They've got all kinds of random truck stop goodies,

including vintage motorcycle leathers, and German surplus waxed cotton frame packs with leather bottoms. I will be returning for them; they'd make great panniers.



Skipped any illusions of Nisene-time again. Busted ass to arrive at 4:09pm at Santa Cruz Bicycles, the meeting spot, only to be harrassed for being late. We then stood around in the Swobo portion of the compound and milked cold beers from the gracious host. And after an hour or so, the other riders were ready. Hmmmm, no surprises, AGAIN.

And with that we were off!...to the bus station. Where we waited to take the bus up Empire.



Then it was more daylight wasted drinking and breaking for safety- an activity which would be a celebration, were it pursued out of doors via bicycle- at the secret compound of Dr. Mr. D. G___. After which point ( and in spite of the globe of scotch, tequila in chilled shot glasses, and Jager-none for me thankyou) we rolled down Fall Creek in the daaaaaark. It began to rain.

Pileups ensued. People laughed at themselves and others.


We showed up at Monty's Log Cabin Bar to wait for the rain to turn from a cold drizzle into a cold raging downpour. Then we set out for town in the midst of it. At several points, I watched my turn go by as I held both brakes to the bar and continued to slide straight ahead while desperately hoping there was no cross traffic. Terrifyingly wet and slippy.


Late night call to my sweetie for pickup. {THANK YOU, BOBA FET, FOR ENABLING MY BIRFDAY HIJINKS YEAR AFTER YEAR!!!} I was asleep before we hit the highway.

Another year older and 25 miles short of the goal. Good Times.