After working eleven hours at the shop on Wednesday and knowing that I had the next two days off, I had a plan for my Thursday: sleep in (8:45 AM) and get thirty to forty miles of fast dirt road riding in on the Boone before cutting grass, trimming some hedges, going for groceries, doing laundry and getting B off to his last night of soccer camp, after which he would leave to spend the night with some friends and teammates while I enjoyed some white trash Mexican food and a cocktail or three while watching pre-season footy.
Here is how that worked out…
My plan to sleep in went just fine. Outside of having some seriously fucked up dreams in which Wifey was cutting grass (she never has done so in her life) on a tractor between rows of corn whilst wearing a jean vest featuring a Confederate flag back patch, even though we’re not from the south, nor do I care about any stupid battle flag controversies which are currently taking place here in the U.S., (the land where people apparently have too much time on their hands). In any event, I woke up refreshed.
I got up, inspected Larry (the giant, possible, boil on my pubis) and set about drinking just enough coffee to wake me up and blow the twelve pieces of Little Caesars’ pizza I ate late last night out my colon like a canon blast.
With the colon blowing done, I ate some peanut butter toast, aired up the tires on the Boone and got my shit together for the ride.
Once I was chamoised up, it was off for the ride. It felt great to be on the Boone again, one of my favorite bikes ever that I paid full on, almost, not quite retail, cash money for, ’cause I know a guy, who knows a guy AND I started working at the shop that sold it to me. Fuck it, sue me you bastards, I LOVE the bike!
I was cruising along and enjoying the pristine Michigan summer day with an ear to ear smile on my smug, fat face, when at mile three: ping, pop. ratta, tat, tat, tat… I broke yet another spoke on the Bontrager wheels that came on the Boone 5 Disc. Shit.
Truth be told, I have a brand new Napper built wheel, laced with stronger, fat ass approved, non-Trek spokes, but I haven’t swapped out the cassette and rotor yet. My plan was to ride the crap wheel until I busted another spoke, then replace it. Sadly, today was that day.
So, at mile 3.5 I stopped, tucked the spoke out of the way, and returned home. There was a time in my past life that I would have cussed up and down and slammed the bike down against the pavement time and time again until I was left with a twisted heap of carbon. However knowing how much I paid for the bike, along with maturing and some prescribed medication has made those thoughts disappear. Yay!
My first thought was to grab my El Mariachi hard tail and head off. NO! I just cleaned it up and put it up for sale, I don’t want to go through all that again. My next thought was to get the Superfly and drive to Mid for a ride. NO! I’ve wasted too much time already. The next thought was to get home, load the Farley in the xB, get outside of town and head out for a fat ramble. The fatty won due to time restraints.
I had a plan to ride the Boone, get in some hard efforts in and try to loosen up the legs in which I’d been standing on for the past two days. Sadly that didn’t happen. BUT, I DID get in a thirty mile ride on two different bikes with at LEAST a 13 pound weight difference.
This was NOT the day I had envisioned, but it turned out pretty OK. I rode the fatty, got some miles in and enjoyed the amazing weather that Ma Nature threw at us today. I am hoping to get up to Mid tomorrow for a singletrack loop, but if not, the fatty will have to do. I am back at the shop on Saturday, so I really don’t want to waste time and money driving down tomorrow to work on my wheel. I’ll make due and things will be pretty darn OK.
When you get down to it, it doesn’t matter what bike you’re riding when you set out. What matters is that you’re on a bike and doing something you love. At least that’s what I think.