Faking the Two Wheel Tuesday Ride

With all the attention lately about the proliferation of fake news in the tangle of the internets, I thought I should button up some holes in the post, just now written [true], for the most recent Two Wheel Tuesday Ride. Truth is, Blogger refused to publish this one unless I first made a few minor corrections to the recounting of the tale. In the two days since that ride many people [not a single one] have asked about it - "why no post?" they ask. At first I wasn't going to write one because I didn't want to embarrass the other riders [myself].

So there we were, the little arm on the clock perfectly half way between the six and the seven, and the big arm set to smartly snap straight down at the six. Six- thirty, start time, and, though there were a good number of road riders, there were only three of us for the dirt. The other two, though well versed in Bonelli's trail system, had shown up for their first TWTR, leaving me to contemplate leading and sweeping at the same time.

Not wanting to drop anyone right off, I set a pretty mellow pace along Puddingstone [mellow to them, maybe - I was at my limit]. They questioned my sanity when I suggested we drop down off the dam to Raging Waters [they wondered why we didn't take that trail], so I gave in and we took the easy road atop the dam. Half way across we turned off for the switchbacks down, and which I magnificently railed, leaving them in the dust [let them go first so they would not witness, or be subjected to, my pitiable descending skills]. Things went like that for a while, up following down, and all around. Eventually, and as we climbed up to the hilltop reservoir I began to notice a little squish in my rear tire. I pushed on anyway with a torrid pace [fell behind], paying no attention to the rocks denting my wheel. On the upward last pitch, with spokes pinging and flying free left and right I sprinted for the top [got off and walked]. A quick two minute change of tube and truing of wheel [ten minutes at least, and I couldn't get a new Co2 inflator to expel into anything other than the aether] and we were back on our way Down the rocky trail from the reservoir I began to notice that same old squish but said, "lets go on to the equestrian center and down to the airfield" [actual words were something like "no more rocks for me tonight"]. I was disappointed when they said they were done in, and had enough for one night, and should take the easy way back [though I told them they should continue the ride on their own, in true mountain biker camaraderie, they refused to leave me to get back on my own.

Good with the bad in equal measure sometimes. Nothing fake about that.