Cranbury West

 

Suydam Road, Franklin Township, NJ

19 December 2021

The last time I led a ride with 25 people on it was years ago at one of our Spring Flings*. I swore I'd never do it again, and I haven't. 

Plain Jim's rides, which started out small and mellow a handful of summers ago, have morphed into large and aggressive affairs. They've become Cranbury West: twenty-some-odd riders, the fastest of whom shouldn't be there and the slowest of whom have long since looked elsewhere for their Sunday saddle time. That leaves a few of us middle-B folks hanging on while the B+ newcomers take over the pace. I stopped going on Cranbury rides when they got this big and unruly. Jim is a close friend; I can't abandon him so easily. 

Instead, when the registration list had rocketed past 20 last night, his ride being the only Sunday sure thing, I emailed to suggest I peel off some of the slower folks so that he could get his speed on. 

When the list was sitting at 26 early this morning, I regretted my offer. Fortunately for all of us, there were some cancellations and no-shows. 

I wasn't going to bring my camera, but I changed my mind at the last minute. The sky over the parking lot was doing interesting things. There might be more later, not that there would even be time for a photo.

Jim announced that I'd be co-leading. I followed it up with, "If you normally ride B+ or are into some Strava shit, go with Jim. If you ride B and like cows, go with me."

Jim pushed off, and it looked as if most of the crowd was going to stick with him. I was left with 7 or 8 riders, and we waited for the fastboys to disappear before we left the parking lot. 

Dave H, in red, swept. I was in front of a group of indiscriminate yellow jackets and Pete G, also in red. We'd ride up to the rear of the fast crowd gathered at a light, meld with them for the thirty seconds it would take for the fastboys to rocket past us, and be on our own again. At one point we passed the lot of them because they'd stopped at a park for a kidney break. I hadn't even seen them there. 

We bunched up again in the Hillsborough neighborhood where the sneaky little sidewalk shortcuts are, and then dispersed again, only to bunch up where all of our GPSs were telling us to turn on Burnt Mill but Jim was going straight. I waved my mob forward, but some of them turned anyway. By now I had no idea who was with which group. I just kept Dave H in sight and stopped when I couldn't see him. Those who stopped with me were the ones riding with me, I guess.

By the time we got within a few miles of the Blawenburg Bistro, Jim was more or less back with us. He'd given up trying to keep everyone together. Not that he'd had much hope of that from the start, of course.

Anyone who has led in Cranbury knows it's a game of drop-the-leader. "This is Cranbury West," I told him. I said the same thing last week, I guess not to him. I've seen this building for a while now.

After the rest stop, the fastest of the fastboys charged ahead, leaving a scraggly dozen or so hovering between Jim and Dave. When we reached Township Line and stopped for traffic, I asked him if we were going to follow the GPS up Butler or take his most recent preferred route, Suydam, from Canal Road. The few of us left agreed on Suydam, with its smoother pavement. 

Finally, for all of maybe four miles, it felt like the sort of ride I wanted to be on. I even stopped to get pictures of the sky as we turned onto Suydam Road.

On one hand, I'm happy for Jim that his rides are so popular now. It's taken a lot of perseverance on his part to keep the Sunday morning thing going, and it's good for keeping his head on straight. Maybe I'll even get a little faster.

On the other hand, there are too. many. people. 

As I packed Beaker away, Luis came up to me with a fist-bump. "Nice not riding with you today," I said.

(*I solved the problem by heading straight for Dutchtown-Zion, after which most of them begged off and I was left with a reasonable 7.)