Post #516
31/8 And good riddance Winter!
The days of riding bare armed, legs exposed and with warmth at your back still seems worlds away, it was Winter's last hurrah and we were layered like onions preparing to freeze at speed for fifty five k's. You've gotta be addicted! Rocket, Liam, Shorty, GiantAndy, Bo, Wozza, Trav, TrekTrev, PistolPete, TatPaul, MyRideTrev and TatMat made up the Saturday assembly, freedom from the confines of an employer and the lure of the Lemontree menu was that little ray of sunshine with just one degree on the gauge. TatMat was quick off the mark for the Archer Rd introduction, the southeast breeze biting through the layers as speedo's climbed into the high thirties. Bruce and Grumpy joined as an advance line formed, Liam quickly into the drivers seat in his trademark horizontal back, hands hanging over the bars, smooth spinning style.
This Saturday was set to be swift. Liam rolled across to the left line at the roundabout and the brave lined up for driving duty beside him, Wozza, Pistol and Rocket donated the long drives alongside, consuming the k's to Mitchell Rd, Central Kialla and beyond, then taking to the shelter in the down-line when the energy evaporated. GiantAndy, Trav, TatPaul, Shorty, Bruce and TrekTrev moved up to do their bit in River Rd, Liam set like concrete at the front respectfully matching each effort. Grumpy and Bo turned themselves inside out beside the young fella on Boundary Rd to the pub but I was opting out if a gap opened over the highway. Bo put the choke on the challenge and rolled in front of Liam to end his twenty k sit in the drivers seat, the routine of rotation finally starting toward Old Dookie Rd, a relief for some and a restriction for others.
To the Toaster then the Church the speed had somewhat settled, though steering toward town the bait of breakfast would bite. Grumpy and I led into Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd working west toward town, a touch of a southwest breeze trimming my turn a hundred metres. Liam drew alongside (respectfully level) but I'll admit the pressure of pace was getting to me, his forty one year younger engine barely running while mine was on the rev limiter. Trying to keep the mind on top of the hurt (rather than the hurt handbraking the head) was a mental wrestling match I soon lost, calling Liam across at Woolshed Rd and preparing for more pain as Rocket came forward as his co-pilot. Legs, lungs and heart were in hell by Boundary Rd as Liam and Rocket turned the tempo into the forties, but the want to play a part in the peloton (and admittedly to mask one's weakness) drives the will to new limits.
Liam's matchstick draft was as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike, the kudos from TatMat and Bruce my only driving force by the main eastern channel where the white flag waved and my elbow submitted defeat. Dropping two metres off Liam's wheel let TatPaul into the gap and the relief was almost instant, he'd kindly sat up on the hoods to aid the tow so the feeling of imminent implosion slowly faded. MyRideTrev and Shorty were clinging to the caboose, GiantAndy bid his farewells to steer to work via Lemnos as Bo took to the front in Ford Rd and instantly pegged back the pace. It now seemed likely I'd survive, at least to Wanganui Rd. Wozza, Bruce and Pistol maintained the tempo into town (Shorty and MyRideTrev vanishing into Verney Rd to skip the sprint), most looking now for a way to wriggle into the left line as Wanganui Rd and it's workload drew near. Those equipped with the effort drove forward as I locked onto TatMat's wheel at DECA, Grumpy dropping off the back as we struggled to the hill.
TatMat and I slowed in Rudd Rd to get Grumpy back aboard, winding up what little wattage we had to claw our way back to the bunch. By the Boulevard Grumpy had disappeared again, so certain he'd be lured by the breakfast bait, we'd caught the somewhat slowing train back to base station to cure the caffeine craving. Depression, retro bikes and where magpies lurk kept jaws flapping as the long forgotten sun warmed our chilled bones.
2/9 Thawing therapy.
I hat running late. It's a Virgo thing. The good intentions leaving home on time were scuttled by tardy traffic lights, forcing a rush to the carpark to catch the 5:45 Monday train (mental note to alter the course for the future)
To the grid just as Kreeky, The Godfather, Bo, Col, Kel, Bruce and Tina were departing, I was at least primed for pace but The Godfather's curse at a deflating rear tyre (yep, always the rear one) soon stopped the squad and gifted me some recovery time from that sprint to the start.
Kel's eagle eye found the offending puncture and before you could say volume in my Vittoria, Bruce had us Indian filed to the truck route. The call of "have a look!" handballed the responsibility from the front, judging a "yep" or a "stop" was left to the individual as a car drew near. Most made it through but the backmarkers chose to halt, so the cruise for half a k got me recovery time again. "All aboard" set Bo driving to Orrvale Rd and of course (to prove performance) stayed on till the Kinder before handing over to Tina.
Swiftly to the cypress trees, it was my turn in the lead role, my shift to the S bend easier than expected (maybe that quick commute to the carpark did the trick?) Kreeky towed us to Channel Rd's end then added extra to the highway, that set The Godfather going on a long drive of Boundary Rd to Old Dookie then Kel to provide the power to New Dookie. This was getting infectious. Col targeted his turn to reach Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd and I knew Bruce would drag us a distance (to Lemnos North Rd as it happened) but at this pace my shifts would be shorter. Bo set his sights on the distance of Grahamvale Rd and Tina's tempo tested me into town, at least we were closer to coffee and sun-up had a psychological warmth on the back. With a whisker of inadequacy I donated a standard shift, though kudos from others erased that feeling quickly, perhaps I was getting a seniors concession? A sprintless Wanganui Rd is a Monday treat, and a day off work treated me to the social stuff at the Butterfactory base camp. Temperatures into double figures prompted a post coffee cruise for fifteen k for the sake of soaking up Spring.
3/9 Hurry + hurt = happiness!
Skirting the streets around the traffic lights made up some minutes to reach Tuesday's grid, though that made me first to berth for the 5:40 fling. About time I hardened up and faced the first shift. Kreeky, Col, TrekTrev, Kel, Bo, Tina and Grumpy arrived for action so I set our little train steaming south, hoping I'd set a respectable pace to Sanctuary's roundabout. Surprisingly, speed was satisfying, legs supplied the labour and the heart rate was headed to the heavens (nothing new) but I was averting eyes from the distant roundabout to avoid a mental meltdown. It was a bridge too far for the brain. PistolPete arrived late from the south and tacked onto the rear, I'd reached my three k target and threw an elbow at TrekTrev to take over, then rolled to the rear for rest, finding I'd scored Pistol's wheel.....again. The east northeaster would play hell on Mitchell and River Rd so my early shift was timely and tactical, Kreeky and Col driving the hard yards to Central Kialla while I restored respiratory function. Tina tore into River Rd possessed with pace (Queensland made her quicker), Bo taking on the breeze at the bridge, but there'd be no epic turn from him today. That wind had worn away his wattage a bit beyond the dip, Grumpy put in charge to tow us to the quarter horse stud.
Kel's determined drive dragged us to Boundary Rd, PistolPete now piloting us north.
He mixed swift with smooth (as usual) to make my job holding onto second wheel easier, the speedo seemed stuck at 40.7 each time I snuck a look as Pete carried us over the bridges, past Channel Rd and up to the highway. Keen to keep the drivers seat, Pistol stayed on till the pork palace, so my turn started somewhat second hand, keeping the pace was possible but doing the distance was difficult. Legs were lax by the fig farm so rather than wreck the rhythm, I left the lead to TrekTrev and spent my last milliwatts catching the tail. TrekTrev turned into Old Dookie Rd and worked us west a bit, a breeze was now in his favour but I'd happily have his horsepower. Col was in command back to town but the pace didn't let up at the truck route, Bo kept the hurry and the hurt happening to SPC before the relief of the respite on the roll toward coffee. Plenty of PB's added the happiness.
4/9 Two tribes.
A taste of two degrees told me winter's barely left us, a cold commute to the carpark optimistically dressed in Spring kit. MyRideTrev led an early long line of emerging hibernators to slink silently south from town, one wonders who will eventually rejoin the ranks of the A's and B's, or could this be the beginning of a divide where cruisers and bruisers do their separate thing and only congregate at cafes? Tenacity and time will tell. A squad of Trav, Bruce, PistolPete, Kel, Rocket, Col, Shorty, Superman, Pelly, Wozza, TrekTrev, Kreeky, The Godfather, Bo, Boof and Grumpy had grouped at the grid by six, my early arrival delivering me the driving duties (again) to the roundabout. Keeping traditionally Indian filed to the edge of town I pondered who'd partner in pace when the advance line formed. Measuring up to the muscles of PistolPete, Rocket or Wozza would work me over so there was some comfort to co-pilot with Kel. But never under estimate a woman with wattage, unless you have a want for a whippin'. Hopeful of reaching the roundabout but with my heart hating the hurry, Kel called a roll just as I was about to, saving me certain suffering.
Back into a draft vision would slowly sharpen, despair would dissolve, a sentence of more than two words could be spoken and I could cancel plans for my Friday funeral. Rocket and Wozza got into their habit of hurry in Mitchell Rd to The Godfather's grizzles of foul play for a Wednesday, but rotations by fellows of fairer fastness settled the speed a touch. PistolPete's Pinarello was in the pits so the old Avanti was being blown of cobwebs, Grumpy in summer knicks made all feel a little warmer while Superman and Pelly chatted comfortably in the caboose. Trav was the perfect partner for my second appearance at the front, from River Rd to One Tree Dam was enough for part one, the pairing with PistolPete in part two aimed at reaching Channel Rd, but my will ran empty 400 metres shy. Volunteers for the front thinned as we worked west on the eight k's of Channel Rd's twists and turns, and by Central Ave my answer to joining the advance line was a no. There was too much horsepower ahead. Trav, Rocket, Pistol, Boof and Wozza charged at the ChaCha (lured by the collection of comeback kids just ahead?), the two tribes forming a long line and a calm cadence back to suburbia.
5/9 The Belly ache.
A crank to Congupna and back at stupid o'clock fed the k craving on Thursday, contemplating the solo serenity and the heaven of hotmix (vs bitumen using 20mm stone) and questioning why is the toilet window frosted on aircraft? Convinced I was fighting a northeaster, there was relief to steer south onto Grahamvale Rd (but I was baffled by the bureau's belief it was a south southeaster) To Friars on Fryers at 5:55 I found Blyth, a visiting Westralian who'd sought me via Strava to learn a local lap or three. Heady clattered in stuck on the little ring (Rule #90 unheeded Heady?), wrestling the chain to it's proper place manually, Belly bowling in as our back-up as six bells chimed. Coggo and Hommie turned up a tad tardy and as Heady had hid from his out-of-town-tow task, I took leg one to Dobson's. There's always doubt inviting a stranger into the fold (can't hang on / won't shut up / no bunch manners / rides like WobblyTrev / happens to be state time-trial champion) so was delighted to find Blyth smooth, straight, sociable and sufficiently swift spinning to Central Ave when I elbowed his turn at the bridge.
Oh, woops! I'd set the bar a bit brisk seeing Belly blown out the back, so we slowed a tad for leg three to reconnect the carriages. I think I'm now off Belly's Christmas card list. Coggo captained the crew in Boundary Rd to the pork palace, Belly's turn was brief and Heady's half that (at least they're not cowering in the caboose). Hommie's back in business despite carrying the extra ballast, handing over to Blyth at the Broken bridges to take us south to River Rd (with hints on navigation from behind). I had the helm for River Rd's opening salvo, finding form on that super smooth stretch of tarmac at the Angora farm. Back into the draft when Coggo fronted the crew, I reckoned on staying in the tow till time would turn me to shortcut to town. Almost rested as I bid my farewells at Central Kialla (fielding a friendly f-off from Belly), the nine k's homeward were pleasingly pacy, that subtle southerly amplifying my ability to help me homeward.
6/9 Nothing, zilch, nought, zero. Fooled by the forecast, a sleep-in Friday felt foreign, but good.
Week 36 250k YTD 9,133km
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