Carl knows what I’m talking about.
Two days in the weekend and two rides. Yup, I managed to pedal twice in a row. Who gives a shit. After a nice day in the hills on Saturday, I tried to ruin it by taking a road ride on Sunday. I had stuff to do around the house and didn’t want to be gone all day so a road ride made sense.
I took off out of my neighborhood headed for parts unknown. Heading north towards quieter roads, I was looking for the least amount of vehicular traffic. I passed what used to be my favorite road route, but now I’m denied access because of stupid cars traveling at 70+ m.p.h.
I didn’t really have a destination in mind, but I ended up near Huntersville. After stopping for a second and looking at The Facebook, I saw that Dicky was nearby and heading my way. So, I waited.
He no show up. I am disappoint.
Without a suitable bike to ride the pump track (yes, I tried), I decided to head back south to see where I could end up. A local craft beer store caught my attention so I stopped. Surely Dicky was riding up this very road and would stop to have a beer with me.
I waited again.
He never showed up. I figured that since he was riding on the road on a single speed mountain bike that I must have been moving along at a much faster pace on my geared made for the road bike. I continued south, thinking maybe I would see him spinning up the road.
Still nothing. Fuck it. I’m heading back home.
Almost thirty miles for the day, sunburned, hot as hell, and no sign of a little old man on a single speed. I made it home without getting killed too, which is always a plus. I’d call it a good day.
Since I was out of my usual post ride beer choice, I settled for something else.
It was good. It didn’t taste like it had any alcohol at all so I drank two just to be sure.
Yeah. A good day. Even with a road ride.