#58: Return of the Pork Roll Problem

That reminds me: I need to order tires.

17 August 2019

"It's a little emasculating," Bob said, standing with us in the mid-afternoon heat of the asphalt parking lot, "to almost be taken out by a quiche." 

These days, sunrise is well after 5:15, which was when I hauled myself out of bed to get ready for my second century of the season. In any other year I'd have done at least two by June or July. This year has been a mess. Between the weather, travel, and the black hole that is the glassblowing studio, my long rides have been few and far between. In fact, the last time I rode more than 60 miles was well over a month ago; my only other century was two months ago. So I wasn't exactly sure I'd be ready for today. 

Martin, centuryless this season, and Brian, itching for another century after Spellbound, met me at my house for a humid 7:00-ish start. 

We were headed for the Reed Recreation Area in Allentown to meet up with the rest of the Slugs. Our route to Manasquan would be relatively flat. What little wind there was would push us back home. This being a sucky year, I wasn't expecting much by way of speed, and I wasn't going to push the pace to get to Allentown either.

The most direct route from my house is 14 miles through Mercer County Park, Robbinsville Road, and Gordon Road. As we approached the end of Gordon, we saw a cyclist pass by on Old York Road. We were close enough to him for me to know right away that it was Tom. He slowed down to let us catch up.

I asked him, "Did you time this?"

"I know you well enough," he said. He decided that we needed a word to describe what happens when Hill Slugs merge on their way to the start of a ride. It happens often enough. "Slug Synchronicity," he suggested. 

"Slugchronicity," I offered.

When we turned in, Jack H, who had ridden from home as well, and Plain Jim, who had the good sense to drive from his house, were already there. 

We were early enough for time to hang around and take pictures.

Bob N arrived next. We waited a little longer, in case someone who hadn't registered were to show up. Roberta, another PFW leader, was there for her C+ ride. John K was also scheduled to lead a ride from here today, starting at 8:30. I hoped to at least say hello to him and his JDRF team. When, by 8:15, no other Slugs arrived, we headed out.

Having heard about last Saturday's speedfest, I made a point not to share my route. I didn't want to do a century alone.

PFW is working on a route bank for leaders. There's a club Ridewithgps account now. I'm not sure this is a good idea. Sure, it provides a route bank for leaders, but if leaders are sharing their routes with their riders, why would the riders need a leader at all? I've seen what happens when pace-pushers get hold of the directions. I don't like being dropped, and I don't like riding alone as much as I like riding with a group. Two weeks ago I changed the status of all of my rides from public to friends only. I have six friends on Ridewithgps. Two are Hill Slugs. Two are people I hardly ever ride with. Two have friend status because I was helping with Event route planning; and one of those is dead. So, no. Y'all don't get to know where I'm going before we go there.

We had a quick stop at a Quick Chek in Smithburg, wherever that is. Tom, who had to be home early, left us when we turned onto Jim's favorite road, Squankum-Yellowbrook.

The traffic kicked in east of Route 9, which is like saying that the sun rises in the east.

Speaking of sun, there wasn't much of it. We'd been riding under a thick cloud cover that was slowly dissipating, but, as we approached the coast, we faced a wall of gunmetal gray over the ocean. "Are we going to get rained on?" Jack asked as we stopped at the Manasquan Inlet.

"This is a Hill Slug ride," I reminded him. "Anything can happen." I leaned Kermit against the cement fence along the river and wandered up towards the beach.

It wasn't looking good out there.

I walked through sand to the jetty.

I guess I've never looked closely at the end of the jetty before. Those pillars are weird. Apocalyptic.

I climbed back down and returned to the guys who, despite having come all this way, showed no interest in actually looking around.

The inlet was loaded with motorboats zipping around.

My planned stop was the Sunburst Pie Company, where I'd stopped with John K the first time I was down here. With all the traffic on Main Street, and because we saw John's group coming in from the other end, I missed the place and had to turn around. In reversing course I caught up with John.

"You stopping for pie?" I asked. 

"We're gonna go to that place near the beach, the one we went to that time."

"The Sandy Seagull? It is no more." 

"Oh," he said. "I wanna go to the beach first." 

It's just as well. Sunburst is small enough that our being there nearly half filled the place. Jack, the first to go in, strutted back with a chocolate-covered triangle of something on a stick. "Frozen key lime pie," he grinned.

Ew? Well, I guess it's almost like ice cream, and Jack is the King of Ice Cream.

While Jim and I opted for scones, Brian and Bob decided on quiche. I looked at their plates with more than a modicum of trepidation. "We're gonna be dragging your quiche-butts back to Allentown." 

Somewhere in our conversation I told the story of the time Ed C, lying on his back at the third Event century rest stop in Walnford, was reluctant to stand up again and said, "I think these clouds need further study," and how the clouds ended up dumping a thunderstorm on my head halfway between MCCC and home.

On our way out of Manasquan, we had to deal with more traffic than I usually subject the Slugs to. Being a bike commuter, I'm accustomed to a certain amount of it. I think I was a little faster through the traffic than the rest of the crew was comfortable with. 

Once out of the mess, we were headed in a nearly straight northwesterly line back towards Howell. There were a few surprise hills that I'd hoped the tailwind would help us over. If we were getting pushed it wasn't easy to tell. The clouds were gone, and the heat was creeping up.

We were waiting for the light on Route 9 to change when Bob asked me if there was a faster way home. "We're going the most direct way back," I said. "Something wrong?"

"The quiche isn't agreeing with me," he said. Ah, the Pork Roll Problem, just as I'd feared. Never assume that you can get away with eating what your buddy is eating.  We were within five miles of the next planned rest stop. Bob soldiered on admirably.

The Minit Stop in Jackson is anything but. I have yet to go into that place and not be stuck in a long line. The place is woefully understaffed. 

What I was craving was a smoothie. The closest thing I could find was one of those Slurpee knockoffs. I picked whatever the red flavor was supposed to be. It was pretty awful but I was thirsty. Lesson learned: Once you've had the mixed berry smoothie with apple juice at Thomas Sweet, there's nothing else. 

Bob, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, assured us he was okay. And he was. 

When we got to Route 526 it was a straight shot for 8 miles back to Allentown. "Y'all can burn it up or chill. See ya back at the park."

"I'm gonna burn it up and take off from there," Jack said, because of course he was. Brian hopped onto Jack's rear wheel and they were gone. 

Jim appeared to want to pursue them at first, but then seemed to think the better of it and hang back the rest of us.

At this point we definitely had a tailwind. We were also tired. I thought back to the days of centuries with Big Joe, Little Joe, Mike B, and Mighty Mike, and how we used to do pace lines and come in much faster than I'd been able to do since Big Joe died and the other engines went off to do other things. I should resurrect the pace line next time. It'll help all of us.

When we got back to Reed, John K's group's cars were still in the lot. Again I hoped we'd see John and his crew. 

We took a few minutes to rest and fill our water bottles.

"Are you OK to drive?" I asked Bob. 

"Yeah," he said. "I just need to rest for a few minutes."

"Those clouds look like they need further study," I suggested. 

We returned to my house with a few hundredths of a mile more than a century, which was exactly enough. So that's my obligatory two for the year, unless we find ourselves with another day where the weather isn't out to kill us. If the forecast for the next five days is any indication, it won't be any time soon.