Screaming Chicken Rally (Hell) Ride 6-9-2009

Respectfully submitted with no statement of validity or accuracy of any of the statements herein:

Soon after regrouping at silver city, Byron started barking orders, from the back, about who was responsible for the report on the evenings follies. Muddled in expletives I heard my name hollered. At that point I was caught up in visiting with Raz who was in the process of proving to us all that our fancy new bikes were nothing without the legs and lungs to back it as he was riding around most of us on his early 90’s trek.

My first thought after trying desperately to get out this reporting obligation, was sh** instead of geeking out on Brian’s new HED wheels and reciting drag charts, I should have been paying attention to riders names and not being so social inept about introductions. That, however would be way to weird for a gear geek and certifiable introvert. Add to that fact, that I was off the back, endulging in my huge helping of humble pie, at every sprinting opportunity, I had no idea how the actual front of the pack sorted out at each point.

Absent the balance of fairer sex it shaped up to be a full on testosterone ride of 8 or 9, which someone mentioned is close to the best turn-out of the year . Notably, the ratio of triathletes to roadies was about even. Byron and Greg started chest pounding promptly after the first pedal turn out of the parking lot about the relative fitness of the two disciplines. Later in the ride, Byron, after being shelled by most of the triathletes, seemed to quite down a bit about funny bikes and bars and came up some random rule about not using aero bars on solo break aways??.

Greg, the screaming chicken, Wirth, proved that he not only does he have the legs to back up his smack talk, but also the tactical smarts, and charisma to lead the team. Clearly fearing the sprinting abilities of Dave ??, Mike and yours truley, he carefully orchestrated hanging us out on the front on solo breaks while he sat in and kept his legs fresh, waiting for the road to turn up. Aparently his 5:49 pace in the governors cup 10k did not sap his legs in the least as he rode on by us and proceeded to make a complete sweep of all the sprint points. I believe maybe the super master Robert gave him a go on the first hill but I couldn’t see that far away..

2 “punctures” (that’s british for flat) on the ride added to our rest time at the fire station as did Bryan’s “sponge encounter” later on which were welcome recovery opportunity for some of us. The weather turned out to be perfect.

Until next week, that is all.

Keith, in the rear with the beer, Carparelli


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