The Last of the Stampede, and What to Do with $30

Woodsville Road

17 December 2014

Not having seen a hill since October, I mostly led from behind on Saturday. I didn't have a specific route in mind, but I did announce that we'd end up in Lambertville.

On our way out of Pennington, Pete G mentioned a group of leftover oxen in front of the Pennington school.  We went to look.  These are the Hopewell Stampede oxen that will be auctioned off at Grounds for Sculpture at the end of January.  Meanwhile, they'll be here.

This is our old buddy Moondrian, who had been stationed on Main Street at the Hopewell Administration Building.

An Ox for All Seasons, foreground, with Jersey Strong as an Ox and Art Toro in the background. Think Inside the Ox is hidden.

Here's Think Inside the Ox.

Jersey Strong as an Ox:

Art Toro:

I think this is the 69th ox, the one that wasn't on the list or the map.  His name is Indigene.

Jim and Marc among the oxen:

I noticed rather early that the guys in front seemed to know where I was going.  Familiarity is fine, but I don't want to become too predictable.  We were on Stony Brook below 518 when Pete said, "Ed wants to know if we can do Mine Road."  I hadn't been planning on it, but here was my chance to mix things up a little.

"Left turn!"

I heard grumbles.

After we got across 31, and then 518, and then 31 again, I headed east on Snydertown and north on Rileyville. I figured we'd go all the way to Wertsville and head west from there.  But then Pete said he'd seen signs that part of Wertsville would be closed as of an unspecified date.  I thought the better of having to ford a stream in December and turned us west on Mountain.

"Since when do you pay attention to a road closed sign?" Snakehead Ed asked.  Since winter.

We crossed 31 one more time.  When I signaled a right turn on Mount Airy, someone said, "You really are taking us the long way."  We were on our way to the cows when Jim told me that Jack H had popped a spoke.  So we took 179 into Lambertville to get closer to Pure Energy.

Jack was barely off his bike when one of the mechanics whisked it inside.  Snakehead said he'd stay with Jack and that the rest of us should go to Rojo's.  He added, "If there are only a few salted caramels left, you know what to do."

I didn't leave until I got a picture of the muddiest bike ever:

There were no caramels, and there were no tables, when we arrived.  Another group of cyclists saw us and cleared out for us, so Bagel Hill Barry, Marc, Jim, Pete, and I had somewhere to sit and wait for Jack H and Ed.  Right when I said that they seemed to be taking a long time, they came in.

Jack H asked me, "Do you have thirty dollars?"

I did, but why?

He didn't have the cash on him, so Ed had paid for the repair.  "I figure I'll see you before I see Ed again," he explained, which makes sense, because Jack H lives one town over from me, and we belong to the same gym.  So I forked over $30, which he handed to Ed.

On our way out of Lambertville, we mulled over the chances of a drive side rear spoke breaking. "Must be all the hills," I suggested.

Somebody (I think it was Jack H) said, "It's all the whining."

"But Cheryl moved away," I said.  (Sorry, Cher. It was low-hanging fruit.  I had to go for it.)  "Besides," I added, "If that were the case, my wheel would have exploded by now."

We crossed 31 two more times before I got us back to Pennington in 46 miles.  Marc and I rode back to my house, talking about life as a train commuter.  I don't miss those days, but it was never really as bad as it sounds to an outsider.

I spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on chores and finally buying a Christmas tree.  I figured I'd put it up by myself, but I asked Sean and Dale if they'd be able to help, just in case.  Dale knows about the purple moose (it was white until I re-wired it  while housebound during a snowstorm last year), so I couldn't very well have them over until I got the outside decorations up. 

So up went the purple moose and the blue deer (I was housebound more than once) and some net lights over the new little box elders, and while I was creating all this tackiness, Jack H pulled up with $30 in an envelope.  After he left, Sean came by, walking Macy Ruth, and promising to help with the tree if I needed it.  I didn't: turns out a wrapped tree goes into a a tree stand real easy.

"We should still get together," I texted Dale.  So we did, and Dale got to see the purple moose.  I left the house without my wallet, though, so they spotted me the cash for dinner.  When we got back, I paid them with Ed's Jack's my $30.