At work, this week, there was a lot of talk about the "moonlight ramble", a bike ride that takes place annually at midnight on the Saturday closest to a full moon. The ride started in the 60s, when Dick Leary told all of his friends he was going to ride around St. Louis at midnight and all those wanting to join should meet him at Tower Grove park. Saturday night came and no one showed. So Dick did the ride by himself. The following year he managed to talk a few friends into it. And it's been growing each year since. This year, an estimated 12,000 riders showed up.
The moonlight ramble is quite a spectacle and a whole lot of fun. Kristen was nervous about the ride, fearing she might get some motion sickness. She did great though. We only stopped a couple times when we were both exhausted from the previous hill. It was so much fun. Next year, I plan to be one of the Dads with a trailer hooked up the rear axle, pulling his kid all over St. Louis.
Of course, all things fun must eventually start sucking. After 9 miles or so, I raced down a hill, hoping momentum would take me up the next. Just as I reached peak speed, a tiny pothole only big enough to fit a bike tire got me. I saw it at the last second and managed to wheelie across (I'm awesome cuz I can do a wheelie for like 10 feet at least), but alas, my rear tire hit the concrete corner. All of the momentum in the world can't beat a flat tire. About half way up the hill, K passed me, and I immediately started looking for excuses. Turns out I had a pretty good one. To be fair, K was hauling ass up that hill and I don't think my tire deflated until well after she passed me.
We waited for the "lag wagon", the vans that follow all of the riders picking up the sorry blokes (I've been wanting to use that word all week) with flat tires. One passed, but it was it was full. We waited at the corner of Market and Compton for another lag wagon to come get us, never happened. Apparently, there was a bit of miscommunication and we were nearly left stranded about 4 miles from our house and 4 miles from my truck. The phrase, "up shit creek" comes to mind. Thankfully, one of the ham radio volunteers picked us up and drove us back to the car. We were too late to enjoy a refreshing free Fat Tire -- New Belgium Brewing Co was a sponsor. So, now I'm home, blogging and drinking a hero.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment