Chris, George, and I decided to get some miles in before yesterday's rain. George was riding a loaner from a shop that is not Hart's. It was a Specialized Roubaix, neon orange, with "test bike" decals on the down tube. I was on Miss Piggy, with her "berzerker green" highlights (as Cannondale calls them). There was no way we wouldn't be seen.
We didn't get very far -- only Titus Mill Road near where it meets Route 31 -- when George's chain hopped its rings and wedged itself between the frame and the crank. At first George and I figured it would be a simple fix, but it wasn't. We pulled into a driveway and Chris dug a screwdriver out of his bag.
The two of them worked on it for about five minutes before deciding that, short of removing the crank, there was nothing any of us could do. Chris hung the loose chain from the bottle cage as he gave up.
George took Chris' bike down Route 31 into Pennington while Chris and I
waited with the orange mess. I sat in the grass, shivering in the wind, while Chris adjusted my front shifter cable.
Walking around wasn't keeping us warm, so we took shelter behind a tree across the street. I took pictures of a farm to pass the time.
We'd lost half an hour by the time George brought Chris' bike back and loaded the orange disaster onto his car. It was around 10:00. According to forecasts, the rain would hit at noon.
We decided to go up onto the mountain anyway, and get out of the wind. To add miles we zig-zagged up Woosamonsa, Bear Tavern, Harbourton-Woodsville, New Road, Linvale, and Mountain.
Every once in a while we felt some rain. It wasn't much, but it was enough for me to decide to bag the rest stop (it would have been Peacock's) and head down Rileyville towards home.
I did stop to get a picture of the Hillbilly Hall sign. Someday maybe I'll go in there.
On Featherbed the rain spat on us again. Chris said, "Each time it's a little stronger and lasts a little longer."
We climbed the annoying hill on Van Dyke, crossed 518, barreled down the other half of Van Dyke, and turned onto Crusher Road outside of Hopewell.
I was telling Chris about Sean and Dale moving to New Jersey in the fall. We were talking about quiet places to live, and how New York City just wouldn't cut it. "They need to see green," I said. "Like this."
On our right was a pasture with cows, sheep, and horses. I couldn't get them all in one picture.
Pushing against a headwind and gusts over 20 mph, we made it back to the house without getting wet. The rain started not too much later.
Terry S. had assembled eleven of us for dinner at Leonardo's in Lawrenceville. The rain was coming down in sheets, the wind whipping it. There was thunder and lightning and a tornado watch. We wondered if the roads would be dry enough to ride on by morning.
Sunday's winds were predicted to start at 18-10 mph and gust to over 30 mph. I bailed on Chris' ride through the wide open fields of Burlington County and went with Terry S. and Alan instead. The plan was to start in Princeton and stay in the hills, among the trees, out of the wind. And to ride slowly. That I could handle.
I took Kermit this time because he's a better bike to be on when there's wind around. I took Princeton Pike, my commute-to-work route to Princeton.
There's a pasture just north of I-95 where the Cherry Grove Farm cows graze. The pasture reaches all the way to Route 206 to the west, so the cows aren't often on the Pike side. Someday I'll get pictures of them. But today's scene was different:
Princeton Pike was closed at Province Line Road. I figured Quaker Road, which runs by the D&R Canal, must surely be flooded, but to close Princeton Pike this far south must mean much worse. I decided not to find out, and took Province Line to Route 206 instead.
At the entrance to Quaker Road there, a police car blocked the road. Water streamed across from the other side of 206, forcing cars into our lane. Kermit's undercarriage got a good bath.
Terry, Alan, and I did our best to stay out of the wind. On Bayberry at Pennington-Rocky Hill Road I took a picture of the clouds speeding by over new spring leaves:
For this next picture, at the south side of Stony Brook where it meets Route 518, we'll pretend that this little waterfall isn't coming from a cement storm pipe under the road:
Terry left us at the top of the mountain so that he could go home and finish his taxes. Alan and I continued down Rileyville. The cross-wind was so strong that I couldn't move my head to look (through my mirror) behind me on the way down. Alan said the same thing.
Here's the farm on Wertsville Road across from Rileyville. If I were being persnickity I'd have cropped out the road sign.
Peacock's is usually bursting with cyclists. Not today. We were the only ones. The flower bed along the fence at looked peaceful.
Across the street, daffodils reflected in a muddy puddle.
We climbed more hills after the rest stop than before, and by the time I hit the 30 mph headwind, solo, at the I-95 overpass on Princeton Pike, my legs were shot.
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