I TOLD you cha cha heels!

Lay off me! I hate you! ____ you, ____ you both, you awful people! You're not my parents! I hate you I hate this house I hate the interweb!






My favorite part is the mother lying under the tree crying. John Waters is a genius and he's captured just how I feel about you people.

In unrelated developments, you know that one thing I was talking about? Well I went out there, under cover of darkness, and climbed up on my bike and used a wrench and my height to my advantage. It was at least 30 solid minutes of standing on my saddle on one leg and then the other, switching hands and grunting...but I got it. Problem was, I had no means of carrying it so I did how we do and hid it in the bushes.

This was Friday evening, you understand, the day none of y'all could be bothered to ride under some moonlight. Yeah, I heard what you said. Whatever. 75% full is 100% full enough for FUN. Full stop.

Anyhow, and so, I had a go back up there today to fetch it. This is because a) the bushes are only so secure, and 2) I had a big pack into which I could stuff it. I had a big pack because it was necessary to carry all my junk for a s240 (that's computer/bike dork code for Sub24hourOvernight, where you ride out and camp real quick).



Why, yes, it did rain like hell for what seemed like all night.



Mr.S and Mr.Y went along. Because Mr. Y is a giant weenie, and hasn't ridden in a month, his "hematoma" was giving him the business to the tune of get off our bikes right in the middle of the climb and camp right then and there. This turned out to be such a disguised blessing on account of how the rain began in earnest just as we were finishing putting up tents. Really, for real, it was frantic attaching of guy lines to bikes and Manzanita in the wet. This proved to be such an undisguised bitch for me, as I dragged my tent right into a slight dip in order to anchor it.



You can guess how that went.





So, yes, I did get soaked but the bright side is that it was only on the bottom of my bag and so just that and the seat of my pants/underwear were truly sopping. And, plus, I had managed to leave my sleeping pad right on the floor at home so I saved weight and effort and got to use my jacket and empty pack for "padding"!



Literally. Right in the trail.


Orange.



Mr Y. Mr Highanddry. Mr 7lbthickashellsleepingpad. Mr. We'recampinghere.

We had been gonna ride out here:

and camp. So after parting ways with Mr. Allthosethingswhohadtogettowork, Mr S and I completed that portion of the schedule.


8:30 AM.




These are the trips that make everything worthwhile. I use them to refine gear selection, to really drive home what it is important to not forget, and to study (at length and in depth) how a solid 6 hours of torrential rain will affect my drive train. On this last, I can definitively say: it's not a good idea to rinse your chain overnight in driving rain and then to further ride it around sandy trails. Who knew? Also, a bottle of lube is a fine and potentially very necessary addition to your kit when going out for the team. Finally, a chain tool is a tool which cannot be improvised. Pack it. Every time. Dummy.


Nice girls don't wear cha cha heels. I noticed the clicking and chalked it up to a bone dry chain. At the bottom of that sweet singletrack I looked closely and saw a link coming apart. I decided to post up at the intersection and make some more coffee and see if anyone showed who was not a fool and who did have a chain tool. While waiting, I used the pocket knife/wrench combo to punch the pin back in place. This worked, but was never going to hold.

The 1st guy who blew through the turn without even glancing my way (yep. Standing there waving, next to a bike minus it's rear wheel and all.) was a road guy I recognized. This behavior seems in keeping with what I have seen from him in the past. He had headphones on, and did not hear me hollering until I upped the volume significantly. No chain tool. Then his buddy rolled up, also wearing headphones, and also without a chain tool. The guy in third was devoid as well.

The next crew to come by was some guys in Yellow Jackets of Authority; one of whom had a bar bag full of empty candy wrappers, one guy had his helmet at a jaunty angle, but the 3rd had a chain tool! He swung off his mighty hybrid, lowered the kickstand with a firm snap, and came to my rescue. Sweet, sweet chain tool.

Done. More riding up and up and then back and across. I thought about taking the road back in and babying the chain, but the trails were just too inviting. Ran into Old T___, and rolled around with him, back through CSide(!), got some lube from Joselyn's (what a difference) and then back to part ways at Huckleberry. What a glorious day.

Little trips like this are The Way. To be prepared for larger adventures when they come calling. To get some little adventures in your day to day.


Not on Christmas. Not on Christmas.