Woke up Thursday and thought, why the F am I going to wait around until 6pm to ride? Dropped The Duke off at school, and was on the bike by 9:15.
Got a nice 2 hours on the CX bike, and was back to Service Course in time to get him at noon.
Riding in 75-80 degrees always beats waiting around all day for it to get hot.
Rumor has it the ride was silly anyway.
The plan was to ride Friday morning as well, but the house looked like a troupe of apes had been living here, so I cleaned. Sometimes it's just gotta be done.
Rode with Statler and Waldorf Saturday morning, and almost met my maker.
Started to turn left onto Double Homie, and Mike yelled, "Watch out...Watch out...!!". I glance over my left shoulder, and a Nissan SUV was sliding past us at a rather oblique angle. I swerved back to the right, and the truck missed me by not a lot.
Had Mike not yelled, I would have gotten hit. Not a question in my mind about that fact.
My only regret is that the asshole driver didn't put it in the ditch, or roll it over. Fucktard...
The rest of the morning, once I settled down, was pretty good.
I hit the door, and my new bar tape had arrived. Sweet.
The Bontrager stuff will NEVER go on my bars again. It just doesn't last. This set was about 6 weeks old, and was coming apart. Shite.
I headed down to SC for the switch back to basic, inexpensive Easton tape.
After unwrapping the bars, I noticed something odd.
I marked everything, and switched the bars. Didn't take long.
What took a while was battling my OCD in getting the bar angle and lever placement correct...even though I'd marked it all.
I finished, wrapped the bars, then stepped back. The monster was already gnawing at me.
The bars got unwrapped, rolled up a bit, and the lever got pushed down on the bars.
Second time was the charm.
As a pro-tip, change your tape often. Inspect your bars. Leaving tape on for months and months and months isn't a badge of honor. It's a recipe for failure.
The Heathens met Sunday for a normal Swansea loop. The tailwind out didn't bode well for the return.
Once in the fields beyond Swansea, the headwind was stiff.
Best part of the ride?
Coming down Old Dunbar, we were drifting down to the light at 321. Cars in front. Cars in back. Red light ahead.
At the light, some ridiculous, blue-haired old bat pulled up, and told us that we needed to, "Share the road or get off...."
I asked why she was so angry. Was it the fact we were legal, or the fact she was going to have to wait at the RED light anyway?
She peeled off to the right, turned, and shot us an old, boney, arthritic, middle finger.
Ah, Lexington County...you never cease in providing quality entertainment.
It was a good ride, in spite of the angry old bitty. She was probably late to her appointment to get MORE blue put in her hair.
90km under wheels in the 70 degree sunshine.
Didn't do much the rest of the day. Hung out. Napped. Practiced some futbol with the kids. Quality.
And with that...I gotta jet. The boy needs to get to school, I need to hit Target, and go to the Chiro.