Sunday ride
Weather around here is notoriously hard to predict. In February, it’s harder still.
Yesterday was supposed to be windy with a 20% chance of rain in the morning, rising to 80% in the afternoon. When I got up in the mid-morning, it was still.
The church across the alley has those old, industrial, backdraft preventers on the chimneys. The wind spins them as it changes direction. It takes only the merest puff of breeze to move them. Seldom are they stationary. Yesterday morning, the were.
Okay. Check the temp. Upper 30s. Clouds? Well they’re eternal around here. Clouds don’t mean precipitation. Anyway, it seemed like a great morning for a ride.
At some point I decided I’d try to ride Yellow Bike at least once every month through the winter. Never in the snow and never in the wet. It looked good for Yellow Bike’s February ride. I suited up, (Jersey of the day: 50+ from bikeforums.net) unlocked Yellow Bike, pumped-up its tires, locked the Portland, and moved one headlight from the Portland to Yellow Bike. Then we were off.
There’s something about Yellow Bike that makes it really easy to go really fast. And it likes to go fast. We were going at a pretty good clip by the end of the block and caught the light on green with no oncoming traffic. I cranked right through the left turn.
A mile further on, not even breathing heavy, I looked down to see the speed in the mid-20s. This is too easy, I thought.
Then it started to rain. Just spits of it. Maybe it’s just the 20%, I hoped.
Past Winton, under the expressway and out East Ave, I caught every light on green. Turning on Clover Street, the first light was red. Not bad.
The spits of rain continued as we sailed out Clover Street. I began editing the ride. The out-and-back to the park was out. I was certain there was still snow on the Canalway. I turned right on Allens Creek to run the Westfall Loop in reverse. It’s been my “long-loop” to work on Saturday mornings through the winter.
Running the loop in reverse turned my favorite descents into climbs, and one climb that I dislike into a descent. And, of course, I wasn’t bucking the wind. Every Saturday it seems the wind has had an easterly component, making them headwinds on those days.
The rain had become steady. Light, but steady. I considered bailing-out at Clinton Ave, and again at South Ave, but figured that since I was wet already, I might as well at least finish the loop. The rain became a bit heavier. Water began pooling in the road and spray started flying off the tires.
Through the residential streets behind the hospital, down Lattimore to Elmwood, where I couldn’t see any trace of where the induction loops might be in the pavement to trip the light. With no other traffic around, I did a stop-and-go. Left on Elmwood, under the bridge and right through the U of R.
On the climb to the Interfaith Chapel, passing wet peds on their way to service, I thought about buying the Church of the Bicycle jersey I’d seen at Eleven Gear. Sunday morning rides can certainly be a religious experience. Why not have an outfit to match?
Yellow Bike loves climbing and we cleared the top of the hill at speeds I only see on the descent with the Portland. Of course, right about then I began wishing I was on the Portland. Like all rim brakes, Yellow Bike’s brakes aren’t so hot when they’re wet. And braking is a good thing when the roads are wet, you’re on a descent and some idiot thought putting a roundabout in the middle of a goddamned hill was a good idea.
Beyond were the raised crosswalks. Yellow Bike’s wheels just glide up and over them. Damn. I’m gonna have to save some money for a good set of custom wheels for the Portland. They’re stout, robust, heavy, and feel sloppy floppy all at once. Yellow Bike’s wheels are strong, light and tight. Nothing phases them.
I went right-on-red at Ford street, and lined-up for the left at the stoplight at Mt. Hope. I’m going to have to remember to leave it in the big ring there when I race cars on Mt. Hope. I lost too much time shifting from middle to big.
On Alexander I played leapfrog with the cars. Until I realized that one of them had a bashed-in hood. Then I decided it was probably better to go slow and stay behind them.
We splashed up Park Ave, dodging potholes and manhole covers. There were no cars behind, but even if there were, I pretty close to the speed limit anyway. The light at Goodman turned green just far enough in advance to let the one waiting car through. I’d been reminded at Alexander and Park of how slippery wet crosswalk markings can be, so I took it easy through the left and hammered on home.
Yellow Bike all shiny and stuff after its bath.
Recording my numbers I found this was my fastest ride ever. Just under 14 miles—half of it on rolling hills—at an average of 18.7. Pushing those damned snow tires on the Portland is doing something!
