Just when Mongo's extreme dislike of all things French had simmered to a passive indifference, my m****** f****** spokes have still not arrived from Mavic! From what I've heard, they've been delayed somewhere around the Maginot Line. Mongo has managed, in the meantime, to replace the broken spoke in my Ksyriums with a workable yet slightly different option. Without a thorough test ride though, I'm not going to feel comfortable at the Hammerfest on Monday. Which brings me to yesterday...
While I always enjoy riding my mt. bike/cafe racer, Li'l Pony Express, Mongo has to admit that I've missed riding my road bike, Ol' Lightnin', over the past couple of weeks. Torrential rain and flooding, along with the aforementioned lack o' spokes, has kept me away.
I was planning on testing the temporary spoke on the Friday night ride at the shop...but then it rained...then it cleared up...but being the anal bastard that I am, I didn't want to get the freshly cleaned and tuned bike wet and dirty...so I almost didn't ride at all...but then I felt guilty and hurriedly dressed in my retro-chic, full Pearl Izumi head to toe, 80's-style, Tinker Juarez inspired, M-Frame wearin', mountain bike getup...and headed off for the ride on LPE.
I always enjoy the Friday ride. On the one hand, I can chat with my buddies as the peloton moves along at a leisurely pace, and then when the action heats up on the homeward half, if I feel like it, which I usually do, I can mix it up at a fast pace for the last couple of miles...which is made more challenging when I'm on the mt. bike.
There are practically no hills on this twenty five mile ride. There are steady inclines and declines, but the grade is never more than four percent. This allows many people to believe that they are faster than they actually are. I always smile when I see these guys on the ride because I used to be one of them. As all cyclists finally learn the hard way...you ain't shit unless you can climb!
I did have a good chuckle to myself though when a guy surged to the front and I tucked in right on his wheel. After a mile or so he was noticeably struggling and he kept looking back for someone to come to the front...no one did. Finally, when he was obviously dead, I jumped him and did a mini breakaway. Later on he was bitching about being "hung out to dry". I wanted to tell him all he had to do was pull over and then ease back into the draft, but it's all part of the learning process and he has to take his lumps just like we all did.
It turned out to be a fast and spirited ride. Even though I was on twenty six inches of rubber, only "Boonen", "G.C.", and "No Nickname", were faster than me... and had some of the J.V. riders pulled at the end, Mongo might have had a chance for a sprint victory. Instead, I ran out of steam with about a mile to go...and then Mongo and the wheelsuckers got swallowed up by the peloton.
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