Amicitia Quam Celeritate

 

Route 524 at East Branch Rd 

4 July 2017

Today was the annual Fourth of July All-Paces Ride, in which, if the weather is good, in excess of fifty Free Wheelers converge on an unsuspecting parking lot in Mercer County Park, proceed to take over local roads in mobs of one or two dozen, and provide a flash of business to nearby delis that make the mistake of being open on a holiday.

All-Paces events are not for the faint of heart, and are usually avoided by the Hill Slugs, who, if they do attend, conspire to break off from the herd early, and, if they don't attend, devise an alternate ride far from the club chaos.

We chose chaos today. I rode in from home on a freshly-frogged Kermit. I wasn't sure which group I wanted to ride with. My default is B, and if there are two B groups, I'll pick the one with the slower leader. I want to work, but I don't want to hurt. The C+ group was chock full of friends I hadn't ridden with since I got Miss Piggy. Tom and Winter Larry were signed up with C+ too. If there were other Slugs in the crowd I didn't see them. Ira let me be the last one on his already too-long sign-in sheet. This would be my first C+ ride since, geez, when Kermit was green?

Despite not seeing a handful of other people, and not working as hard as I'm used to, I think I made the right decision.

I got a couple of questions over and over:

"What are you doing here?"

I explained that I wanted to talk to people, and that these days I lead from behind, and that the only reason the guys wait for me is that they don't know where they're going. The old buddies would laugh and say that my rides are too long for them anyway. I wish they would come out with us. I'm not fast. Really, I'm not. And if I can haul my lumpen body up a hill, surely these featherweights can, too.

"Where's the $500 Piece of Shit?"

To that I replied, "Dismembered in Kansas." A new one is on its way. Bill B and I spent a few miles griping about Garmin. Lou gave me the lowdown on his new Wahoo, which has its own set of limitations that I'm sure would get under my skin.

Ed has his tandem, with John as the stoker. On Route 524 Ira let us wind it out. Ed and John jumped in front. I hopped on, and for two miles I hammered to keep up with them. I wasn't sure if Ed was trying to shake me or to keep me. Either way, there's something to be said for being smoked by a guy who wears his heart in a pack in his jersey pocket.

After our stop at Roy's, we were back at the park in no time. I hung out, catching up with everyone else I hadn't seen in ages. I was almost the last to leave. Today was less of a ride and more of a party. I'm glad we didn't skip out on this one.