Wednesday Night Rides are a (spotty at best so far) GO! Santa Cruz has had their rich (and by rich I mean PARTY) tradition of Wednesday Night Rides, but it is 50 miles from home. The Monterey Peninsula is lacking in this regard, but it is home. Wherever home is, this midweek ride/party is a winner.
After last week's debacle, in which everyone cancelled, yesterday really happened. I knew the fellas from our shop were all going to ride their (or a demo) squishy bike, but the demos from our location are reserved for today so I did not want to take one. I opted instead to ride my top of the line Specialized bike- the StumpJumper. It was tits in 1989. It is tits in 2013, only now it has baskets.
As I rolled up and over the hill to meet at the shop, I heard a PING, and thought I'd hit some small metal bit. Turns out it was a 15/16 pinner spoke breaking on the well-used wheel my coach had gifted me at the bike swap. Good thing I's on my way to a bike shop...
So I got to be that guy for a bit.
Then we climbed up the pave at a very brisk pace. I was a little concerned at the briskness. I don't often ride with a group these days, so I forget how it is. As we settled into the climb, though, I came to the front and gave the youngsters what for- baskets and all. I admit to liking that part. Those guys are mostly the fucking new guy, and their inexperience and youthful naivete are frankly a little tiring. Witness, FNG from last week who, on a borrowed full carbon/suspension bike, did not have any tools/tube/levers/pump show up again this week not having learned anything from last week's walk out from trail's end due to the same lack. Yes, he had no tools/tube/levers/pump. And he is a bike shop employee! My efforts to point out the flat-out lack where met with a furrowed brow and the statement "somebody has something." That is disappointing. Last week I loaned him my pump (several times), and would have loaned him my spare tube, if he had brought levers (my shit comes off by hand, yo) to get the tire offa the carbon rims. You think he would learn. He obviously can't be taught. It is exasperating having to "parent" grown-ups. I am reminded of my scout master, who would turn his college ring around the 1st time you did something super wrong/stupid, and the 2nd time hit you upside the head with it. He made good and sure you had the opportunity to see him turn it around, but woe to the boy who did not pay attention.
The conversation was witless, too. I pulled beers out of my baskets and we had a short break. I did not expect the FNGs to have come prepared.
But, riding was fun. I slotted in last place on all the downs, which was most assuredly where I should be, full-squish or no. Those guys did a lap. Then they rode home. I laughed, and rode through the trails on my lonesome at a slower but still totally ripping pace. As I reached the spot at which I expected to open my last beer, I saw that my pack had bounced out of the rear basket...somewhere. Then it was a much higher pace back to the split, looking for my pack containing beer, jacket,tools, phone,etc. When I found it, I was glad. I had just begun to despair and there it was.
So, that was where I drank a beer instead. On the way out, I stopped to document the new section of trail just above the Carmel entrance to Pebble Beach:
it is a worthwhile add-on, up and down. The road crossing is sort of shitty, but worth it.
Hey yo, Full Moon coming up and I gots the baskets...who likes to party?
After last week's debacle, in which everyone cancelled, yesterday really happened. I knew the fellas from our shop were all going to ride their (or a demo) squishy bike, but the demos from our location are reserved for today so I did not want to take one. I opted instead to ride my top of the line Specialized bike- the StumpJumper. It was tits in 1989. It is tits in 2013, only now it has baskets.
As I rolled up and over the hill to meet at the shop, I heard a PING, and thought I'd hit some small metal bit. Turns out it was a 15/16 pinner spoke breaking on the well-used wheel my coach had gifted me at the bike swap. Good thing I's on my way to a bike shop...
So I got to be that guy for a bit.
Then we climbed up the pave at a very brisk pace. I was a little concerned at the briskness. I don't often ride with a group these days, so I forget how it is. As we settled into the climb, though, I came to the front and gave the youngsters what for- baskets and all. I admit to liking that part. Those guys are mostly the fucking new guy, and their inexperience and youthful naivete are frankly a little tiring. Witness, FNG from last week who, on a borrowed full carbon/suspension bike, did not have any tools/tube/levers/pump show up again this week not having learned anything from last week's walk out from trail's end due to the same lack. Yes, he had no tools/tube/levers/pump. And he is a bike shop employee! My efforts to point out the flat-out lack where met with a furrowed brow and the statement "somebody has something." That is disappointing. Last week I loaned him my pump (several times), and would have loaned him my spare tube, if he had brought levers (my shit comes off by hand, yo) to get the tire offa the carbon rims. You think he would learn. He obviously can't be taught. It is exasperating having to "parent" grown-ups. I am reminded of my scout master, who would turn his college ring around the 1st time you did something super wrong/stupid, and the 2nd time hit you upside the head with it. He made good and sure you had the opportunity to see him turn it around, but woe to the boy who did not pay attention.
The conversation was witless, too. I pulled beers out of my baskets and we had a short break. I did not expect the FNGs to have come prepared.
But, riding was fun. I slotted in last place on all the downs, which was most assuredly where I should be, full-squish or no. Those guys did a lap. Then they rode home. I laughed, and rode through the trails on my lonesome at a slower but still totally ripping pace. As I reached the spot at which I expected to open my last beer, I saw that my pack had bounced out of the rear basket...somewhere. Then it was a much higher pace back to the split, looking for my pack containing beer, jacket,tools, phone,etc. When I found it, I was glad. I had just begun to despair and there it was.
So, that was where I drank a beer instead. On the way out, I stopped to document the new section of trail just above the Carmel entrance to Pebble Beach:
it is a worthwhile add-on, up and down. The road crossing is sort of shitty, but worth it.
Hey yo, Full Moon coming up and I gots the baskets...who likes to party?
1 comment:
i like your style dude.
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