I woke up Saturday morning in a mild panic, almost sure that this was the day that a trail race was taking place on the trails at MMCC and started making alternative ride plans. However a quick check of the web set my mind at ease, confirming it for next Saturday. With that good bit of news in my empty skull, I ate breakfast, drank coffee, dumped out, and headed up to MMCC listening to a new Spotify mix I made featuring several songs that years of music snobbery has taught me not to like, but that I often shamefully, secretly like (usually as I roll my shopping cart around the super market).
The Hated Mix features such gems as Take A Chance On Me by Abba, Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac, and Angel Of The Morning by Juice Newton. EGADS!! It’s horribly bad good.
It was a perfect day for riding, and as I pulled into the parking lot belting out Islands In The Stream (Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton) it was buzzing with a wide range of riders taking advantage of the trails (and wondering who the weathered looking drama queen was pulling into the lot).
I quickly got the PrOcal ready and headed off into the woods. After the day off the bike on Friday I was feeling good and loving life as I pedaled those first three miles of singletrack. Then my rear tire started to feel a little soft. “Surly the Stan’s goo will take care of whatever’s wrong,” I mistakenly thought. Another half mile down the trail and I found myself getting my adult toy shaped mini pump out of my jersey to add some air. One twist of the bent and jacked up presta valve and it shot out of the wheel’s valve core like a bullet off into the leaves and weeds. “FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUddddge!”
So I dug a four-year old tube out of my seat bag, dealt with Stan’s goo getting all over me, put it in, and in just 1,061 sweaty, masturbatory strokes of the mini pump, I was off again. For about fifty yards. Sigh.
Apparently riding for four years with a tube in your seat bag is not great for it. Luckily I was near one of the grass walking trails that cuts near parts of the trails and that made for a quick walk back to the xB.
It was too early in the day to abort, so I figured I would head down to Terry’s Cycle in Alma to get a new valve core, some Stan’s, and then see about riding somewhere after.
The shop was busy with repair drop offs, and would-be bike buyers, and all I really hoped for was that I could get what I needed and find a part of the shop to goo up. Instead I lucked out and in between test ride assistance Napper found time to give me some unrequested love, swapped out my valve core and added more sealant. Surely he knew that if he just went ahead and did it I would be in the shop for less time and not scare away any customers. Probably correct.
While I was there I picked up some grips for Superfly, a long needed new floor pump, and got some instructions for some work I need to do for the shop this week before heading over to Sally’s trail to get a couple laps of in-town singletrack in.
I hadn’t been on the trails since some snowy rides on the fat bike this past winter and forgot how tight, twisty, and buff the trail is. It’s only about a 3.5 mile loop, but it’s go – go – go, the entire time. Not sure if there is one spot just to chill and grab a drink.
In the end this was NOT how I had planned to spend my ride time on Saturday, but I salvaged something from the day. Not to mention I knew that valve core was ready to go soon anyway, I’m glad it happened where it did and not further away from the car or home.
I must be getting old, because I am becoming increasingly better at taking the lemons that life can hand out, and making lemonade. I’ll no doubt be one of those easy-going guys who doesn’t get flustered by anything just in time to die.
Later.