Monday, November 1, 2010
After Dinner Report
Dirty Spaghetti is in the bag, and there's nothing left except the greasy stains where the sauce seeped through.
Saturday morning was text book Tallahassee fall weather. 40's in the morning, followed by a mid-70's finish. After a quick debate regarding the political correctness of signing out, or just rolling out, we rolled. This greatly chafed against Big Jim Slade's incessant desire to follow all things rule-like, lest we descend into anarchy and chaos. Mingo quietly asked BJS if he intended to bitch if he got lost. If so, he better go sign in. Otherwise, get quiet and get in line.
There was much shivering and chattering of teeth, as we coasted the paved downhills that open this ride. Our first stop came quickly, as BJS lost his map sheet from his pocket. The rest of us gathered in the sun, as he retrieved his cargo. This delay could not have been any more opportune. The sun was just cresting the treeline, and its rays brought much needed warmth, and the chance to score the shot above.
After we'd ridden awhile, and seen absolutely nobody on the roads, we realized that we had jumped the gun, and rolled out about 10 minutes early. We finally rolled up on some folks who had jumped the gun even more than us. They tagged along, and as our groups' paces ebbed and flowed, so did our togetherness. For the most part, it was like any other crew ride. Just us and the route.
We hit Boston, GA for the lunch stop, right on schedule. The 85 Mile Worlds competitors showed within minutes of our arrival. I downed a turkey sandwich and mixed 2 more bottles of go-go juice, and started looking for our gang to roll out again. Lunch was getting crowded, and I didn't want to stand around too long. Silk was on the same page, so we hit the road. All the 85 mile folks were keying off of him, so we soon had about 30 people rolling out the small town roads, headed for the return leg of our journeys. It was nice to sit in the big group and chatter with some other folks, but when we hit the dirt again, and Silk decided to "see if anybody was paying attention", the pace ramped beyond what I wanted. Soon, it was back to just our gang, again.
Early in the ride, in fact at the very first opportunity, I kicked off the yellow sign game in Wrecking Ball's honor. He may not be there in person, but we carried his spirit. Derwood took to this damn game with an enthusiasm that I was sure he'd pay for dearly, later in the ride. No such luck! He contested every sprint imaginable. Best I can tell, he got both county lines, and about 52 yellow signs, yellow reflectors, and he may have even sprinted for a kid wearing a yellow hat. Most of us got at least 1 or 2, so we didn't get shut out. I even managed to get the Boston city limit sign, just before lunch.
Our band of 6 held tight until the last 10 miles. And honestly, probably would have held tight longer if I hadn't decided it was time to take Derwood to task for all of those yellow sign sprints. I turned up the juice, and soon it was just Derwood, BJS, and myself. At this point, those 2 took turns kicking me in the taint, taking my lunch money, and laughing out loud as I limped and whimpered along behind them. In the rides leading up to this, Derwood had lost a little of his usual expertness. Apparently he found it.
When we finished, it was nothing but crickets around the community center. Apparently, aside from Ms. Kristine Freier, we were about the only other folks to have finished the longer dirt routes. We returned to the trucks to change from our monkey suits, eat cookies and drink beer, before descending on the Spaghetti free for all, that is the ride's namesake. The 85 milers showed up a little later, albeit whittled down to smaller groups. We swapped stories, filled our gullets, and talked of the upcoming, Dirty Ron. This day was truly a good time, and it's even cooler to know that there is another one, of our own making, on the horizon.
Stay tuned around here if you want in on the Dirty Ron. The current rough draft is about 69 miles, starting and ending in Monticello. There will likely be some fine tuning, but regardless, it should be a good time. At the very least, it will be fodder for story telling in the future.