Big Bikes

Remember, Sully,
when I said I Hated Road Riding?
I lied.

On second thought, no I didn't. I was telling the truth. In yesterday's post I stated that I hate road riding and it wasn't a false claim. Maybe it's just a phase I'm going through, but right now I'd rather drop my drawers, dump a glass of lemonade on my schweed, and throw my leg over an electrified fence, than throw my leg over a road bike.

That part about the lemonade and the electrified fence...that's an old southern saying. My friend Bullitt is from North Carolina, and when he's not busy telling me how racist Yankees are, he's saying down homey things about lemonade and schweeds and electric fences.


It was a beautiful day, but still, the only way I could convince myself to get out the door was to fabricate a valuable and slightly insane mission to complete. What I came up with was a Peet's Coffee ride. I had to drop off a lock I borrowed from my buddy Jason over two months ago (I'm a dick), he was over in Newton at the shop. There's a Peet's in Newton Center. From there I would head over to the Peet's in Wellesley, and then onto the Peet's in Lexington. If it had been earlier in the day and I had been feeling richer, I might have had a coffee at each location. As it was, I only had a coffee at the Wellesley location.

There's something about that stuff. I mean, I'm an addict, I drink more coffee in a day than most people drink in a week, but that stuff...it's like crack laced with PCP. It does something to me, when I drink it I feel like I could chew through cement blocks and overturn cop cars.

But I would never do that, because somewhere deep in my subconscious, there's a voice telling that I can't actually do those things, and that I would damage my teeth and strain my back if I tried.



Obviously I'd have preferred to be out on the trails, but for anyone with even a vestigial sense of responsibility, that is not an option right now. With the record rainfall we've had here in Massachusetts, the trails are underwater. Above you see my tracks on what is normally a dry cut-through — it was a bog today. The lake next to that? That is a carriage path on any other day. For chrissake, the freakin' Minuteman bike path was broken. It had washed out like a Honduran road in spots. It was one of those days where the sky was bright and sunny above me, but I would have been loving life just that little bit more if I'd mounted a fender, so my backside didn't get soaking wet by the time I was three blocks from my house.

And ya, soggy bottom or not, it really wasn't all that bad...for a road ride.

Hey, when did they put in that new waterfall?