Riding to work.My hours were cut, due to business being slow. It did leave more time for riding. I was able to take trails both to and from work today. I am thankful to be employed, and am not complaining about the hours. Just saying. And now that I do say it, it occurs to me that this very trail is the one upon which I poured out an offering on the eve of my job hunting adventure.
On my way home, my chain blew apart here. The pins in the masterlink plates just gave up. I was able to find one of the pinless plates, but not the other. There were mosquitos. My chain was 9speed.
However, hey! I had cleverly stuck some extra plates in my matchbook. They were 10speed though. But they worked.
Ooooooooh, such a sandy trail. I see your street ride, and raise you my sandy trail.
Just in case y'all thought I was lying about the cat turds. I wasn't. Check out the size of that thing. For perspective, that is the pint bottle from the Sleaze Otter. The one buried 'neath the old rugged cross. The threads were still a little gritty. No, I did not have a nip on the way to work.
It was fun to take the Kampe Monkey out after so much riding on the skinny tires. Give me some big fat tires and some hella low gearing, and I can move the world. Everthing was climbable- apart from busted chains. I rolled over all kinds of stuff I'd had to nimbly, nimbly dodge on the skinny tires.I'm not sure about the wide open possibilty even without any dough though. On account of I really need a new drivetrain. There are many creaky noises on, in and around that bike.
But there ain't no flies on me.
3 comments:
You must pull like a brute. In fifty years of sissy pedaling I have never busted a chain. Never. I feel so...so whimp. Be careful the cats.
you should carry catnip with you. yikes.
maybe some Johnny Cat too.
The torque thrown down with the low low gears and steep slippy pitches on a mountain bike is much different than the sweet spin of the graceful road machine. It's not so much that I'm really strong, just really offroad. Add in some occasional cross chain action, subtract some maintenance and Bob is indeed your aunt's husband.
The cat. Yes, the place has a different feel to it now. There is NO way, looking at the # of turds, that we have not been there at the same time at some point. I ride that trail A LOT, and frequently at or near dusk one way or the other.
So, maybe that means this cat is not looking to eat me.
Probably, the mountain lion is my totem.
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