No Slug Buffer

 Rocktown Road uphill from Lambertville

14 June 2014

Jim already has his post up about today's ride.  I'm glad he got the details out there, because it frees me up to rant, more or less.

Cheryl and I were hoping that more Slugs would come out today, but they didn't. That left me and Cheryl to fend for ourselves among a cadre of fastboys, some whom we didn't even recognize and others I know I don't want to ride with.  Jim and John K were, as always, gracious about slowing down, and even waiting, so that we could catch up.  Despite that, the two of us didn't have a big enough Slug Buffer to ever truly feel comfortable.  Having copied the cue sheet, I was fine with being abandoned.  Cheryl and I could make our own way at our own pace and be no worse for the wear.  I even suggested that we could head home at any time if we felt like it, and I could drive her back to her car. But John and Jim kept waiting for us.

Things got worse when, about 20 miles in, when the terrain got hilly, Cheryl's rear hub began to slip randomly, leaving her to pedal without traction until the hub caught again.

John's one-stop metric put us in Sergeantsville.  To our relief, almost nothing has changed but the faces behind the counter and an apparent upgrade in the coffee (I stayed away this time, having had quite enough in the morning).  The store looks the same, the cook is the same, and the place still even smells the same.  I wasn't expecting any of that, and, until today, I never really noticed how the store smells. It's not a bad smell.  It's a musty sort of smell.  But now it's a welcoming, familiar smell, one that will let us breathe a sigh of relief:  long live the Sergeantsville Deli.

When Cheryl and Blake decided to cut out for home, I was left in the back of the pack, the anchor.  I'm used to being in the back with the Slugs.  Slugs don't care who's in front and who's in back.  Slugs don't say shit like this:

"I'm in energy conservation mode.  I'm going to ride here in the back with you."

Those who know me will be surprised that I didn't drop the F bomb and be done with it. Instead I sternly informed the ignoramus that I know my distance, that I know my pace, that I know my speed, and that his comment was insulting.

Slugs don't say shit like this (same perp):

"You dropped your sandwich so you could climb the hills faster."

My sandwich became bird food because I hit a bump while I was trying to eat it on the fly so as not to slow anyone down.  I said, "You just don't get it, do you?  I don't care how fast I climb."

Which isn't strictly true.  I do care: If I were faster then my friends wouldn't have to keep waiting for me.  But most of the time, when we're out on a Slug adventure, I don't even look at my speed until the ride is over (see last week's post).

A few seconds lapsed, and I said, "Being faster does not make one a better person.  What it does do is increase one's potential to be an asshole." He laughed.

Slugs stop to take pictures. Today I stopped only once for that, a scene only Cheryl also noticed (there were turkeys under the tree, too dark for my phone to handle).

I didn't even stop at Mount Airy.  As a testament to how much slower Cheryl and I were, Jim had time to snap a picture of me not stopping to snap pictures.  Had there been cows, maybe I would have stopped.

Jim's picture of me not taking pictures of cows

Sheesh.  This post reads as if the lady doth protest too much.  Perhaps she does. Had I not been insulted twice by someone I've been explaining myself to on and off for over a decade, perhaps I wouldn't be feeling so grumpy.

It's not John's fault.  I'm glad he considers me a friend worth inviting to a ride.  I appreciate that he had a stack of pizzas and cold drinks waiting for us when we got back. I appreciate how gracious he and Jim were being as Cheryl and I lagged behind.  I'm glad I did the extra miles to his house and that I got almost 80 in for the day. I'm glad that Cheryl was there (and sad that we won't be able to buffer each other when she moves away). I'm glad that someone else took over the responsibility for leading today.  I'm glad that there's still squash cherry nut bread at the Sergeantsville Deli. And I'm glad that Jim and I had a tailwind to push us home.

Here's the route.