Pie Crust

 

Van Kirk Road

2 December 2023

I wanted to lead a ride from Cafe du Pain in the Lawrence Shopping Center for two reasons: the bakery serves Haitian food on Fridays and Saturdays; and a route from there wouldn't be the same old thing.

Except that it sort of was. 

Minutes before I was about to coast downhill for a mile and a half to the starting point, Jim texted that he was going home because he'd forgotten his helmet. Nonsense. I have spares. He rode his bike up to my house. I gave him an old mountain biking helmet to wear. It sat on his head the way the top snowball sits on a snowman, but at least it was something. We coasted down to the shopping center together.

We were joined by Heddy, Pete G, Andrew A, Racer Pete, and Tony G.

We went north, winding through neighborhoods until we got to the Pole Farm. The day had started off damp and clammy. When we got to the farmlands, there was dense fog in the fields. I had to stop on Van Kirk and dig out my cell phone because I left my real camera at  home.

My iPhone 12 has digital zoom. Here are pixellated cows behind a pixellated fence in a pixellated field in pixallated fog.

When I'd mapped the route, I got about 1700 feet of elevation gain over 40 miles. This is less than my usual 50 feet per mile. So far, we'd had a few bumps, but no real climbs.

That changed when we took Province Line over the Stony Brook and then Pretty Brook and Cleveland. None of these hills are steep, but when one has been lulled into slightly rolling terrain, one gets annoyed. 

Then there's the stealth hill up Carter to Cherry Valley. And Province Line the easy way. Still, nothing really daunting.

Racer Pete got a flat on Camp Meeting, which was convenient. It gave us a break before we went up Belle Mead-Blawenburg Road to the Blawenburg Bistro. Again, a little hill. Plain Jim said I'd lost my right to complain about the annoying hills on his route. I said that this wasn't as bad as Oppossum. Same ridge, smoother pavement.

My toes were cold. I was glad that most of us decided to eat inside. Pete G was served a hunk of bread pudding half the size of a cinder block. Heddy and I each had pumpkin ube scones once we found out that ube is the Japanese sweet potato. Jim had a cupcake with icing that sat on top the way his helmet fit. 

The route went east from there, then south on Cherry Hill. I hadn't been on this road in years and years. On a slight incline, Pete G zipped past us. "It's the bread pudding," I explained to Andrew. 

"Did he eat the whole thing?"

"Near enough as not to make a difference."

There was a real hill on Cherry Hill once we got across Cherry Valley. Then we rode the ridge through more highest-end real estate. We looped through a neighborhood off of Province Line that had hills for no reason (neither geological nor mine), then made our way back towards Pennington. 

By this point, Andrew and both Petes had peeled off for home. I promised only one more hill, a small one, as we approached Princeton Pike. "Then it really is all downhill."

"I don't believe you," Tony said. "Promises are like pie crust: meant to be broken."

Then the sun came out.

I told Jim to keep the helmet in his car, and traded it for a string backpack so I could carry two kinds of Haitian beans and rice back to my house. I added some pastries, because why not. Heddy got the last of the plantains. 

I had to wipe Janice down before I brought her inside. We have more than 2300 miles together now. That's more than half my total for the year. This feels wrong.

Both Kermit and Beaker need new stems so that my back won't hurt. In any other year, I'd have taken care of this six months ago. But it's so easy to grab Janice and go. When I got the new bike, I promised I'd still ride the others. Pie crust.

Also, when I uploaded the ride, it came out to 2000 feet of elevation gain. So much for something different.