Gonzo's Day Out

Gonzo at Six Mile Run State Park

20 January 2020

You know those mornings when you wake up from 9 hours of sleep and still feel like shit? Saturday was like that.

I'd already canceled the towpath ride I would have led if anyone had bothered to register. There was snow in the forecast, snow that would change to rain, leaving central New Jersey a slushy mess. The temperature at 9:00 was in the mid-20s. That nobody had signed on to ride in such weather was a relief, if not a slight surprise. The Slugs I run with tend to obey Rules #5 and #9 with a certain amount of religious adherence.

I drugged myself with coffee and dragged myself downstairs to where I'd set Gonzo on the fluid trainer the night before.

Poor Gonzo. Booted from commuter duty in 2014, stripped and repainted a stealth sparkle, the LeMond Zurich of unknown vintage was set to return to his original job as a winter beater bike. He went out a few times, but for the most part he stayed inside, on fluid trainer duty.

As I pedaled away, trying to ignore the headache and nausea that had been with me off an on since returning from England, I watched the snow come down outside and wondered which bike I'd take for Jim's Six Mile Run Sunday.

Kermit would be good in the wind, but I didn't want road salt to get onto the steel frame. Ditto Beaker and Rowlf. Especially Rowlf, who has a Colnago-club shaped cutout on the underside of the bottom bracket shell for some reason. Miss Piggy? But we won't be climbing hills.

If I only had a beater for salty roads.

Hello? Remember me? Gonzo? The one you're trying to destroy on the trainer right now? The last time I went outside was February 24, 2018!

So I took off the sludgy trainer wheel and locked in Gonzo's stiff road wheel, so neglected that the tire had gone completely flat.

Locking a rear wheel into that frame is a pain in the ass. I never get it right the first time. One stomp on the pedals or one bump and the wheel comes unseated. I never remember to tighten the lever enough. This dropout takes tight plus one.

It took three tries to get it in for good. We were on Amwell Road. I held the frame while Ricky pulled the wheel back into the horizontal dropout.

All four of us -- me, Jim, Ricky, and Ralph -- were on our winter beater bikes. Jim had done some tinkering with the Krakow Monster, and now he's mostly happy with how it feels. I, on the other hand, remembered why it was that Gonzo had stayed indoors for two years: the brakes never really worked all that well; the shifting, because I switch between two wheels, isn't precise; and the bike takes a lot of effort to get moving. Made of spare parts, Gonzo was never meant to be a precision machine. Gonzo was meant to ride in road salt and rain splut.  A sparkly new paint job and hand-me-down racing wheels make Gonzo more fun to ride, but still.

The more heavily-traveled roads had enough salt on them to turn our tires white. There was a little snow on the sides of the shadier roads. Jim had made the right decision to modify his route to keep us away from the shadiest spots. In doing so, he cut out the series of three annoying hills that, on a hilly ride wouldn't amount to much, but on an otherwise flat ride really get on my nerves.

His detour took us south on Hollow from Camp Meeting to 518. An emu lives on the farm at the corner. I think the bird knew we wanted pictures. It came toward us, curious, then, cheeky bugger, it kept hiding its face behind the fence slats.

We got back to Six Mile Run around 1:00 p.m. All the snow was gone.

The sun landed on Gonzo's frame, snazzing the sparkles.

When I got home I didn't change rear wheels. I'm leaving Gonzo road-ready for now.