dinosaurs on the farm

This:

Speedy West and Jimmy Bryant railing.

KB is planning a tour for high schoolers (he heads up a bicycle maintenance class like a teacher in the summer) so we scurried roundy round the Ord, looking for the perfect blend of carless pave and firm(enough) sand/dirt. It was a new feeling- this looking around for a ride that a bunch of young clowns will both suffer through and enjoy. To think about what it takes to get from here to there and yon is to examine all the sequence of maneuvers and gear choice and chosen gear and maintenance and road judgments and ______ which you so wholeheartedly take for granted in this time (the time of your "expertise").

You do.You do. You take it for such grant that you cannot even begin to bring up all the bits without a single minded focus. Sharp edged rumination. Such furious concentration will surely take it's bite.

I got mine, today. Stuffed the front wheel into some loose deep sand behind a little bush as I was trying to swing around one of the series of quick back and forths before the whoop de doos on Mudhen Express. The bike slewed left, the front wheel bent right, and I went over the bars. Hard and fast. You say potato, I say potato, we both say: tacoed wheel, minor scrapes, gratuitous bleeding.

As I learned today, the Mystic Utterance with the surest effect in such straits is (and I quote) "Take it, Bitch." After a fruitless attempt at returning the True with a spoke wrench and flawless technique, I resorted to the last resort- the overhead wheel slam. At least I had clear marks from the brake pads blacking the tyre's sidewall. 3 "Take it, Bitch"es later, and with a little more spoke wrenching, I had some semblance of True. Enough to continue riding and fulminating, though I was ascared to let it out on the pave on account of it hurts so much to go down on it.


What time is it?



Time for a new hoop. Anyhow, a Good Time was had. Ride bikes, drink beers.




And, plus, what happened to Velocache #28?