2 January 2023
Tom led an off-the-books ride on the Lawrence-Hopewell Trail on December 28. It was the first day in almost a week that temperatures had risen above freezing. Fozzie, the gravel bike, hadn't been out in so long that his tires had gone squishy.
I rode Fozzie to the Brearley House. There was ice in the woods to the side of Mill Road where it bends into the Brearley House driveway.
The path from there to Lenox Drive was still blocked because of the housing construction next to the Brearley House.
That the development is coming so close to this historic site has township history buffs hopping mad, but there's nothing they can do about it now.
Tom wanted to try the path anyway. We got about a hundred feet in when it ended at the development site, currently a field of mud. We turned around.
Despite the week's rain and sub-freezing temperatures, the trail was almost ice-free. There's always that spot, in the woods near Rosedale Lake, that is frozen all the way across. Last winter, Tom was the only one brave enough to ride across it. He's the only one who hasn't traded in his mountain bike for a gravel bike. This year, the surface was starting to melt. He was wise to walk.
I didn't stop for photos until we got to the Mount Rose distillery on Pennington-Rocky Hill Road. As many times as I pass this on my road bike, I never notice it.
It was good to see everyone again. Tom suggested he'd lead another invite-only ride on Friday. I was glad that he took the initiative. I'm burned out on leading.
We started from Mercer County Park. I took Beaker because I figured Rickety would be on Barney. Both Beaker and Barney are old-school, Italian, steel frames. Barney is a purple Cinelli that Rickety keeps sparkling clean. Beaker has a new rear derailleur; she'd been sidelined for months because the old one was more gambling than shifting.
I'm not sure exactly where we were when we heard the geese overhead. We were at an intersection somewhere north of New Egypt, maybe near Imlaystown. There were so many that I grabbed my camera, aimed up, and just started shooting. I was unaware that the setting dial had shifted in my pocket and was now in live action mode. For every shutter depression, I got three or four photos instead of one. This left me with dozens to choose from.
"They're snow geese!" I called out.
They made quite the racket up there.
Pete started to grill us: "What was your favorite ride this year?"
"I'll have to think about that," I said. A minute later, I called out, "Wait. I know!"
"What?"
"Park Loop Road and Cadillac Mountain, Acadia National Park." Duh.
Later: "How many bikes do you have?"
Plain Jim turned this question into a blog post*.
In New Egypt, Scott's doesn't let riders use their bathroom anymore, so we went to Wawa instead. Wawa doesn't have a restroom either, but it's the principle of the thing..
We took Hill Road from the south. At the top of the last hill, on the northbound side, someone with far too much money is in the process of erecting a statue of a horse several stories tall. I have a feeling I'll be taking a lot of pictures of this horse for a while.
The bridge at Walnford Mill is still out. It's been repaved, though, and it looks as if the road will soon be open. The concrete barriers have been rearranged so that we could get our bikes through without hauling them over. Tom and Jim had stopped for so long at the giant horse that I had time to take multiple photos of the mill (discovering here that I was in live action mode).
When the group reached the intersection of Gordon and Sharon Roads, Pete and I kept going straight, cutting off a few miles and the steady, infuriating, ka-bumps of the blacktop cracks on Windsor Road. I finished with 54 miles, a good way to end the year. Pete, who lives six miles north of me, would end his with more than a metric century.
There were some rides listed for New Year's Eve. I didn't register for any of them and woke, late, to dense fog. I decided to take the day off, the first day in over a week that I didn't push myself to do something physical. I wish I'd gone out, at least for a walk. The pictures people posted of the towpath that day were beautiful.
Instead, I registered for Plain Jim's C+ New Year's Resolution ride. At the last minute, I decided to start from home on Kermit and meet the group somewhere on Canal Road. I wasn't really thinking about total distance or where I should break off. I left my house at 9:10, too late to get all the way to the Claremont School by 10:00. I stopped instead near Bunker Hill on Canal Road, in a spot where I could see if anyone was coming and get ready to push off again.
The thing I like about C+ rides is that they're totally chill. There was a big talent spread, but nobody was trying to push the pace. Tony G was there. I hadn't seen him since he did a Simone Biles over the stone wall of the Dead Tree Run Road bridge.
"I hear you were involved in the judgment of the blue tires on my Canondale up at Mike's," I said.
"I was. I approve."
That got us talking about bikes and frames. "I just got two new Tommasinis**," he said.
"My Tecno is my best bike," I told him, "but this one is my favorite." He has a bike like that, too. Sometimes it all just clicks, pedigree or not. Kermit has a new chain, a new bottom bracket bearing, and just got an anti-rust treatment, so he's running especially smooth.
This being New Year's Day, there wasn't a planned rest stop. I realized I already had 22 miles under me when we stopped to collect ourselves in Kingston. I chomped down half a bar as fast as I could before we zipped down the hill towards River Road, where we'd have a few more little hills.
When we got into Hillsborough, Andrew left the group at Township Line. I thought I probably should follow him, to cut off a few miles, but I didn't.
We wound our way back to Canal Road. Now I was stuck with the 20-something miles it would take me to get home, and into a headwind by myself at that.
Being weird about food, I found myself debating whether or not I should have the other half of the energy bar, dipping deeper into my lunch calories. This, I knew, was stupid, because bonking sucks more than having to eat a smaller lunch. Being weird about food, I stuck with stupid, stopping only when I got to Old Georgetown Road because I wanted to get some pictures of the old barn that has now completely collapsed. I pulled out a frozen Shot Blok and ate that.
The building across the street, covered in tarp, isn't faring much better.
I had to stop near the quarry to take a glove off and scrape frozen Shot Blok from my teeth.
When I'd passed through downtown Princeton on my way to the ride this morning, the place had been empty. Now it was teeming with traffic and pedestrians. I wasn't expecting that. Having to stop and start at every block is worse when you're tired.
I arrived home with 57 miles, far more than I'd counted on, and almost twice the 29 Jim's group had done.
Having to go back to work on Tuesday, I decided to do a recovery ride today. I lollygagged around the house, taking the ornaments off the tree and hanging the last of the glass spiders in their new homes. I didn't get out until 10:45. I bought with me two sandwich bags and no camera. My goal was to get to Boro Bean and back with at least 20 miles (10 miles per muffin) at whatever pace my legs could handle. I came back with 27 miles, almost enough for a third muffin. The deal with the muffins is this: I cut them in half, and Jack and I each get a half for dessert. Unless it's sweet potato. Then I get all the halves to myself.
Now that Miss Piggy's saddle is back in the correct position, I can ride without stopping to stretch my back. The shifting is shit again, though. The new middle chain ring has thrown everything off. Michael thinks the shifter itself is going. Shimano doesn't make Ultegra or DuraAce 10-speed shifters anymore. I can find used ones on eBay, or switch to Sram or something. Maybe I'll call JasonAtHalters to see what he's got in stock.
Miss Piggy isn't the best carbon bike out there, but at 7 years old, the frame is still in good condition and the setup is custom to me and my janky back. I'm not ready to dump $10K on something lighter, fancier, or electronic. Not yet, anyway.
(*I read the post and wondered who among us had 9 bikes, so I emailed him. "I thought it was you," he wrote back. Um, no. "I have five," I replied.)
(**Tony has 18 fully built bikes, plus two frames. "I'm a collector," he explained.)
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