Its not often that I do group rides. They require planning, you have to be somewhere at a certain time, and having a mechanical on a ride where the route is unknown usually turns me off. The Slick 50 was so worth it.
Hurl lays down the rules to live by, "Don't be a dick".
Photos shamelessly jacked from the Minneapolis Musette.
We met up at the CRC coffee shop preride, and rolled out 5o or 60 deep. The ride lived up to its name for the first 15 miles of greenway and alley meandering. The temps were just at 30 degrees, it was enough to make me wanting to be sitting on the front as the ice sheets were stretching across tarmac. The temps caused me to do some serious reflecting on apperel.
I ended up rocking my OR gaiters to cover the bareness between the bottoms of my knickers and the tops of my winter boots. Earlier this week, I did some commuting to work on some really swampy trails, and found that my shins were the only things that were really getting doused. The real problem was that the water would roll down my rain pants and into my boots. It was really harshing my mellow. I have used the gaiters for winter commuting when the grey snow in the street might soil the bottoms of my trousers.
For all intents aand purposes, I happen to think that gaiters are one of the more useful accouterments that I have used for keeping my cankles warm and dry. Plus they are easy on and easy off. 30 bucks well spent. I also ended up leaving the bar mitts on the bike, namely because I could not find my Sugoi gloves.
Once we got off the greenway, we rolled along the river towards the STP. I got to sit and chat with so many different people regarding all the events and bike related soirees Jeremy, Aaron and John regaled me with bike related tales of what happens about town. Chris Skogen, the mastermind behind the Almonzo rides, was in town, so I got to chat with him for a few minutes.
Once we crossed the river, heading south from the STP, the group started the spread out. At about the half way point we took a break to adjust things, kill some tallboys, and just generally regroup. Then we rolled down along the river, with with 2 river bluff ascents looming. Once we hit the climbs, it was all grunt, then rolling back down the bridge to STP proper. The next bluff was a steep and greasy alley behind a church. People saw Jesus on that climb.
Then it was all old town cruisinlg back to the pub for brandy and ale. after trading tales with the MPLS bike courier crew I headed back. According to Corvidean we rocked 50 miles
I did stop at Freewheel Bike to pickup my I9 back wheel. I had the Stans ZTR Race rim replaced with a new Crest. The spokes were starting to pull through the rim, which is not surprising given the weight weeny nature of that setup. They lasted several seasons, first for Harlan Price, and then me.
Then it was back to the house to freshen up and take her Al-ness out to dinner for date night at the Blue Nile. It was a day lived to the fullest.
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