Danger: Extreme Caffeine

Kermit with his traditional foxtail

4 September 2017

Tom invited his Insane Bike Posse and several hangers-on to a Labor Day anti-All-Paces ride from his house. I spent Sunday mostly offline, doing housework, a day of tedium that yielded very little in the way of a visible result. I didn't have any coffee either.  At 6:00 p.m. he had no takers; I said I'd meet him at the park. At 8:30 he emailed me back that Cheryl and Jack H had said yes. We had a quorum. I told him I'd be there but I wasn't sure if I'd ride or drive over. I was still undecided when I went to bed. 

Tom lives about four miles from the far side of Mercer County Park. I could get there in 11.5 flat miles, do his ride, and come home with a metric century. That would mean dead legs for the following three days of bike commuting. At 6:15 a.m. Monday I checked the forecast: rain Tuesday evening and Wednesday too. That settled it. I saddled up.

As I approached Windsor Road from Old Trenton Road I saw a row of traffic cones and a cop apparently snoozing in an SUV.  I approached him cautiously and asked, "Can I get through?"

"Sure. You can get through," he said, as if it were weird that I'd even ask. 

The three-truck crew fixing a downed wire was right where I had to turn onto South Lane. A worker and a cop ushered me through the mess and I made it to Tom's with ten minutes to spare.

For a last-minute invitation, Tom got a big group. Besides me and him, we had Jack H, Cheryl, Joe, Al, and Chris.

Tom lit out at Saturday's pace. Chris admonished him to slow down lest we get yelled at. We were headed to Englishtown. The unusual southwest wind pushed us there. Tom didn't have a specific rest stop in mind. "Something will be open," he said.

We landed at a QuickChek. Jim being away for the weekend, it was upon me to take the obligatory line-of-bikes picture.

Now, coffee, but what kind? The iced coffee machine spat out clear water. I dumped that and perused the hot selection. With a cup part full of ice, I chose "Extreme Caffeine," a roast that boasted "34% more caffeine." I drink French press Death Wish. Bring it on.

Holy crap. I think there was crack in that coffee. I pushed the pace without trying.

Tom chose the hard rollers of Stillhouse and Sweetmans "to piss Cheryl off." I doubt that; her new bike is set up for climbing.

We got a little spread out on Stillhouse. At the top, across from the graveyard, someone had stuffed a plastic lily onto the stop sign post.  Chris suggested I pluck it and give it to Kermit. I didn't.

The lily remind me, though, that I hadn't gone through with my August tradition of snatching a piece of foxtail grass while in motion, then stuffing it behind Kermit (or Piggy; it's easier  to grab the grass when I'm climbing) at the next opportunity. Fortunately there was plenty of it on Sweetmans Lane. (I didn't take the picture until I got home.)

We got spread out again on Perrineville Road. I'm sure that was my fault. The coffee's fault.

A lone corn stalk poked out from a field of soybeans.

All that was left of the morning's road block was a line of flare ash at South Lane. The group turned right; I continued on. I figured I'd get to Mercer County Park around noon, right when most of the rides should be getting back.

The fastboys were already there. Marc, whom I haven't seen in forever, Raj, and I got into a long talk about wheel building. Marc is putting together a generator-hub wheel for randonneuring so that he can power his lights and GPS over hundreds of miles.

Ira came over. "Laura!" he said, "I've got something to tell you. The site is going live this week."

I tilted my head back. "I'm gonna faint!" I might have. I felt a wee bit dizzy. 

"It's gonna kill me," he said, hinting at months of frustration. "The ride leaders will get an email and login credentials first," he added. We'll get to play around with the ride calendar before the thing goes live to the rest of the world. Can it be? One more newsletter issue and I'll be free of this thing?

Other riders trickled in. There was buzz about a crash on Rochedale Road, the pockmarked hill out of the Assunpink WMA. Ambulances getting lost finding the place, concussion, collarbone, rumor.

"It's one o'clock!" Barb said. "I gotta go!" 

"Yeah, me too." But I got sidelined into another conversation. I felt shaky by the time I left. Shaky but raring to go. I got some needed yard work and more chores in before the stuff started to wear off. It's 7:00 p.m. now and I'm not sure I've fully come down. I think I'll wander the yard and take pictures of flowers before the sun sets.

Note to self: stay away from Extreme Caffeine.