Burnt Hill Road
24 December 2019
After missing several months of Sundays, Plain Jim is back to leading from Six Mile Run. The day was going to be one of those that starts out below freezing and winds up feeling like early spring a few hours later.
Apparently, the candy cane leggings that Chris wore last week were just a warm-up for this week's floating Santa heads.
I chickened out of riding the 18 miles from home to Blackwells Mills, in part because I was bringing Jim the last of the glass I wanted to give away, and nothing I make isn't heavier than it needs to be. I regretted my decision almost right away. At 10:00 a.m. we were basking in above-freezing temperatures.
Jim took us on his usual route towards Thomas Sweet in Montgomery. He was riding the Krakow Monster, his winter bike, which he is less and less happy with. I get that. I have a winter bike, Gonzo, that I only use it on the trainer now.
Rarely do we have to stop for a train when we cross the tracks on Route 604.
The little hill on Opossum Road is annoying. Jim didn't feel like dragging the Monster up the incline, so he diverted us to stay on Burnt Hill Road. With the warm air, there was a blue haze over the Princeton Ridge and the Sourland Mountain.
It turns out that the Burnt Hill is steeper than the one on Opossum. The pavement is better though.
After the break we were hoping for a tailwind to push us back to Six Mile Run. Overhead, the clouds had cleared.
We were just about ready to leave -- Jim was already driving out of the lot -- when I called him out of his car. A cyclist had come in on a bike that Jim needed to see. The bars weren't drop bars; they were flat, and curved slightly back. The grips were leather. The saddle was leather. The pump was jewelry. The fenders, pale yellow, offset the pale green of the steel frame. It wasn't an old bike; it just looked old. Jim and the rider geeked out for a handful of minutes, and I think we convinced the guy to come out with us the next time there's a Sunday ride from Six Mile Run.
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