thegock
Well-Known Member
So, Talmonster says “it’s too cold Sunday-let’s go mountain biking.” Now, my mountain bike is 30 years old and weighs 40 pounds with its Pletscher carrier and panniers. So, while it does have the virtue of not being stolen out of the train station rack when some weasel jacked 36 bikes over two months a couple of years ago, I didn’t want to risk its health (or mine) at its (and mine) advanced age.
Quick trip to Hilltop with the checkbook and a new Talon 4 27.5 was in the back of the truck. When I got home, it stayed there while I went out on the road with my rain bike. That’s where I got into real trouble. I never wanted second best components on the road so why would I want less on the trail? I had about 28 miles to ruminate that Friday afternoon. When I got home, I phoned the shop and told them that I wanted to upgrade. Back to shop with checkbook and back home with the Talon 1. Feel better.
Sunday morning was about 20 degrees when we clipped in after a bizarrely meandering journey to the Patriot’s Path lot at Lewis Morris. There were quite a few cars in the lot from the 10 of us and others. (crap, people are going to see me!) I warmed up by pedaling north on the path and back again. That was easy and I figured that as a dedicated climbing roadie with 5k miles a year I should be fine.
We started up the first hill and two guys immediately shot off the back like they were on bents or something. A couple of minutes later, I had my first fall with my “shiny, new bike”, as one of the stronger guys said. Not too bad-much softer than macadam. A minute later one of the guys broke a chain, which necessitated a 10 minute fix during which one of the better riders showed up and told us that the two dropees had broken a chain and gone home. This all gave me time to walk up a steep bit and catch my breath. (Does this happen every mtb ride? Two mechanicals and three guys gone home in the first 15 minutes.)
There followed quite a few sessions on log ramps and some righteous bunny hops. None by me.
We ran into several other posses in the woods and everyone we met was uniformly friendly and cheerful.
After two hours, five more falls and several long slow walks uphill, we were done for the day. Not so bad. The falls were soft, mostly, even the off camber 10 inch wide path that everyone joined me on the ground for.
One of the guys suggested that we grab some breakfast, so the surviving seven met at the Blue Willow in Green Village for brunch. The first three guys served had butternut squash soup, served stone cold and quickly sent back. Mark on my left got what looked like the best crepes I had ever seen. He politely waited while Bill at the head of the table didn’t get his entree for over 10 minutes. The guy to my right had the Eggs Benedict, which sounded delicious until we both looked at each other and said: “Yours cold too?” When the check came, they had tacked on a 20% service charge on top of the Manhattan prices to cap off the worst dining experience in 10 years. But I smiled all the way home in the truck.
Quick trip to Hilltop with the checkbook and a new Talon 4 27.5 was in the back of the truck. When I got home, it stayed there while I went out on the road with my rain bike. That’s where I got into real trouble. I never wanted second best components on the road so why would I want less on the trail? I had about 28 miles to ruminate that Friday afternoon. When I got home, I phoned the shop and told them that I wanted to upgrade. Back to shop with checkbook and back home with the Talon 1. Feel better.
Sunday morning was about 20 degrees when we clipped in after a bizarrely meandering journey to the Patriot’s Path lot at Lewis Morris. There were quite a few cars in the lot from the 10 of us and others. (crap, people are going to see me!) I warmed up by pedaling north on the path and back again. That was easy and I figured that as a dedicated climbing roadie with 5k miles a year I should be fine.
We started up the first hill and two guys immediately shot off the back like they were on bents or something. A couple of minutes later, I had my first fall with my “shiny, new bike”, as one of the stronger guys said. Not too bad-much softer than macadam. A minute later one of the guys broke a chain, which necessitated a 10 minute fix during which one of the better riders showed up and told us that the two dropees had broken a chain and gone home. This all gave me time to walk up a steep bit and catch my breath. (Does this happen every mtb ride? Two mechanicals and three guys gone home in the first 15 minutes.)
There followed quite a few sessions on log ramps and some righteous bunny hops. None by me.
We ran into several other posses in the woods and everyone we met was uniformly friendly and cheerful.
After two hours, five more falls and several long slow walks uphill, we were done for the day. Not so bad. The falls were soft, mostly, even the off camber 10 inch wide path that everyone joined me on the ground for.
One of the guys suggested that we grab some breakfast, so the surviving seven met at the Blue Willow in Green Village for brunch. The first three guys served had butternut squash soup, served stone cold and quickly sent back. Mark on my left got what looked like the best crepes I had ever seen. He politely waited while Bill at the head of the table didn’t get his entree for over 10 minutes. The guy to my right had the Eggs Benedict, which sounded delicious until we both looked at each other and said: “Yours cold too?” When the check came, they had tacked on a 20% service charge on top of the Manhattan prices to cap off the worst dining experience in 10 years. But I smiled all the way home in the truck.
There were no other riders out that I saw and after four minutes, turning around and going back to the car was on the table. Must get a fat bike. Maybe a fat tandem-that way my girlfriend would kill me.:2guns:
