I opened my eyes, rolled over and shut off the alarm clock a mere minute before the French ambulance siren on speed screech could emanate from its tiny speaker. I stretched, unfurled my man blubber, let out a loud clack of a fart and tried to remind myself of why I had the alarm set for 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning. Oh yeah, Wifey asked me to set the alarm, because she had an appointment with the Lord, or was at least going to church to meet up with B-Man who stayed the night at a friend’s house and would be attending 9 a.m. mass with his family.
I felt good, refreshed and happy with the knowledge that no additional snow was expected after yesterday’s 5 inches and that after breakfast and watching the first football match of the day I would be taking the Pugsley out for a ride on the snowy dirt roads. For nearly 5 minutes I laid there, contemplating which route to take, wondering about the condition of the roads and thinking about the good time I had on my date with Wifey last night. A date that consisted of nothing more than us eating frozen pizza, drinking a few beers and yelling obscenities at über rich assholes on House Hunter’s International from the comfort of our sofa. “God, that was fun.” I thought. Oh yeah, GOD! I better throw a couple nudges into Wifey and get her ass up.
After a few cups of coffee, watching West Brom wrestle with Liverpool in a one-all draw and the last of my breakfast was deposited in the throne room, I commenced the layering process needed for an 18˚ ride on snow-covered farm roads: wool socks, bibs, base layers, Craft winter pants, etc., etc., Then I loaded up the xB with the Pugsley and my gear and made my way a mile or two north to Mission Creek Park where I choose to start my ride, thus avoiding too much time on pavement with pricey 3.7″ tires.
The roads in town had been reduced to slush and wet pavement and the roads near the park alternated between slush and packed snow. I was starting to wonder what the dirt roads another mile north would be like.
The park’s parking lot contained way more cars than my visit Friday morning. Today, even at 11 a.m., several families were already utilizing the sledding hill, which is the main feature of the park, in addition to a mile or two of walking trails and a trashy reputation for once being the go to spot for man on man fellatio.
With screams of happy (I hope) children hurling themselves down the steep hill on hard plastic sleds and under the watchful eye of the security camera above me (reportedly installed a couple of years back in an attempt to end the park’s night-time fellatio-fest) I unloaded my bike and headed off for what I hoped would be a pleasant couple hours of riding.
Approaching the stop sign at pavement’s end, a pickup truck pulled up alongside of me. “Hey! How do them big tires ride in the snow?” the man behind the wheel yelled across the cab. “Real good! They do best when there’s some snow pack and things aren’t TOO deep, you just can’t take off into deep snow and expect them to ride well, but they work better than regular bikes for sure!” I yelled back through the balaclava I had pulled up over my mouth to prevent any ingestion of road slush. “My son was telling me about these bikes with the big wheels meant to ride in the snow, have a great ride!” With that, we exchanged waves, he turned left and I headed north, towards the snow, hoping that this “bike with the big wheels” beneath me would handle OK today.
The road was completely covered with snow with no signs of having been plowed in the past 24 hours. I hesitated for a moment, but then launched myself into the snow, trying to ride in widest car tire tracks available. My rear tire attempted to dig in, only to be thwarted by the thick ice laying two inches below. I wobbled a bit, but stayed upright. I then made the mental note to not get too comfortable.
Soon there were some snowmobile tracks to follow and the occasional tractor track but it was slow going for sure. There were stretches that I made good time on but it was clear that this ride was not going to be easy.
To avoid the deep snow I had to stay in the middle of the road as much as possible. Thankfully there wasn’t much traffic, but when a car or truck did appear I was forced to slow down and pull off until they passed.
35 or so minutes into the ride I stopped to let a truck pass. The driver and passenger gave me a wave. I continued on and in another mile or two ran into the truck again, now parked in the driveway of a home with its passengers unloading groceries. The woman who recently vacated the passenger seat was loaded down with bags of groceries and yelled out to me “Does that thing have four-wheel drive?” I refrained from yelling back “Well, since it only has two wheels, I’m thinking no!” and just waved, laughed and yelled out “I wish!”
It was about this time that I realized that I jumped the gun on this ride. The roads may have been packed down by Monday or Tuesday but today, less than 24 hours since the snow stopped, was way too soon. Today, a 15 miles slog through the snow would have to be good enough.
A few turns later I was heading back to rejoin some of the snowy roads I had been on earlier. “Wow, this shit is icy!” I thought to myself. A second later, my left ass cheek was bouncing on the snow-covered ice like a rubber ham. It was pretty hilarious to tell you the truth. Once I stopped bouncing and sliding along the road pinned under the bike, I stood up, made sure all my shit was good and took off, anxious for some of that slushy pavement.
As I picked my way through the variety of icy line options of North Crawford Road I began to think the day’s follies were behind me, that was until I met the pissed off growling furry figures of Roxy the dog and her mangy scared nameless canine cohort. The two leashless hounds took off out of a farmhouse yard and kept me hostage in the middle of the icy road for some two or three minutes before their relentless barking roused their owner out of the house to yell for them. For a good five minutes, a futile routine of me encouraging the dogs to go home, the owner yelling for them, the dogs ignoring him, growling and barking at me, then wrestling and biting each other took place. Finally barked out, board and realizing that despite my masked and goggled face I posed no harm, they retreated back to the yard and their owner’s clutches.
I thanked the man for gathering the dogs and rode the last bits of ice and snow to pavement, increasingly happier that the ride was nearly at its end.
After a mile of whirling knobs on sloppy and slushy pavement I was back at the park, simultaneously seeing a park sign forbidding ATVs and Snowmobiles from the grounds and a speeding snowmobile as I entered the lot. I knocked some ice and slush off of the Pugsley, loaded the girthy beast in the back of the xB and headed home; sweaty, snot faced, wet and satisfied.
It was not the easiest of rides and it wasn’t the most fun, but it was a ride and it did have its moments of sheer enjoyment. I still can’t help but wonder if I would have been better off giving the dirt roads another day to get packed down and maybe gone with Wifey to that 9 a.m. appointment with Lord at Sunday mass…