Post #598
8/5 A social spin? Sweet!
We expect temperatures to sink and numbers to decline toward winter, so the serendipity to combine the clans for Saturday's spin was welcomed. It makes sense to join forces and tough out the temperatures together. The shop squad (Rocket, Boof, Wozza and Bruce) and Woulda's ; TrekTrev, Joe (not Tony) and Shorty sided with the Sanctuary's Emil, Pistol, The Godfather, Bo, Grumpy, Molly and Greg, even the Mooroopna chapter (Lance and Nev) had toured in to join.
(Team Tat would have completed the picture) Rocket fronted to form an advance line as PistolPete led the way to Mitchell Rd, though a long Indian filed tail sat in the wings awaiting their wheel of choice (some have a rather rapid reputation and the true tempo was yet to be determined) The Godfather's entertainment set a relaxed mood for a full line of pairs to form, Nev's sudden swerve in close quarters rattling a few nerves, Molly settling into the caboose as mid 30's became the fashion. The sudden slow for a rampant rabbit in River Rd then the halt for PistolPete's puncture had some wheels up close and personal but all remained upright for the pause. Must be puncture month, it's almost a daily dillema!
Pete's repair oozed careful deliberation and class (as you'd expect) and the bunch reformed mostly in order to resume the path to Coach Rd. 8 degrees was borderline for a second base layer and full gloves, the optimist inside choosing lighter insulation (promotes a little more effort to build an internal warmth) Colour lit the sky for Boundary Rd shifts, an eye kept on the rear staying attached as the bunch swung east toward the Toaster. I could get used to this two rows of social stuff, most civilized compared to the silence and single filed suffering trying to stay ahead of the Shop squad. Maybe this factional get-together may be the winter ritual?
Beside TrekTrev for the work west on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, he'd had enough by Woolshed Rd so I rolled to the left line and partnered pace with Bo. The expectation to reach Boundary Rd looked likely as long as I didn't look at any other number than km/h. Far better to see that the engine red-lined later downloading the data over coffee at home than seeing the reality trying to reach the target while gasping like an asthmatic! Chat with Rocket was postponed till I could manage a sentence of more than three words. It was strangely satisfying to see several only take on shorter shifts ; there's life in the old engine yet!
The sense of riding through a blackened tunnel slowly lifted as daylight lit the surrounds and with plenty still to do duty at the front, there was calm in the legs knowing I'd probably be towed all the way to breakfast. Shorty and Molly sat content at the rear as speed nudged the 40's to Mt.Wanganui, the bolt along the Boulevard a little squeezy between parked and passing cars, though the lust for breakfast kept the clan combined toward the Butter Factory. The days of Group C V8's, building developments and diabolical diets kept the breakfast table noisy, great to have Alan along in the large void Col has left.
10/5 Just a quiet tap. Yeah, as if!
A tailwind to the start-line didn't really help. It only delivers a false sense of security that you're doing ok. Facing the wind later delivers reality's harsh blow! Reservations of a tough lap with few attending were unfounded, Rocket, PistolPete, Wozza, Bruce, Emil, Joe (not Tony), Bo, The Godfather, Kel and Grumpy arrived to lighten the load from my imagination of three at the limit for fifty minutes. Today's spin would be a sombre one, it was our good mate Col's funeral and facing his loss still seems surreal. PistolPete assumed his usual leadership role toward Mitchell Rd and with that breeze behind, forties became the fashion. With Rocket, Wozza and Emil behind and soon to serve their speed, a precedence of pace had been set. No rest for the righteous today! Rocket's speed was similar to Central Kialla and wind had no effect on Wozza's drive north to River Rd. Raw horsepower and matchstick aerodynamics probably helps. I readied the head for the hurt at the front as Emil dragged me along River Rd, hoping there'd be no heroics of doing a super long shift to cook me at second wheel. There wasn't ; he called it quits at the bridge. A lot more throttle was needed out of the slipstream as the northerly put a handbrake on my progress east, so I applied my senior citizen's concession of a k to the cruising speed. Basic survival technique really. Except the speed, numbers climbed toward the dip, almost to the red-line as I handed the helm to Joe (not Tony).
Off the gas felt great but the passing pack's pace was now disproportionate. Lots 'o watts were now needed to catch the tail. Make that second last, Kel called me in. Joe (not Tony) may have regretted his return to the Sanctuary squad, speed may have been just that rung too high from the Wouldabeens standard. Four white posts and his turn was toast, but better to get out while the going's good, rather than ruining the rhythm. The two red leds of Vince and the Rabbit flashed their "Come get me" for Bruce to hurry at the helm, passing them uncontested before skirting the rumble strips at rooster corner. They opted not to sit on. Bo headed the line north on Coach Rd but had retired from active service at the Broken bridges, Grumpy providing the pace to the highway. In a "mine's bigger than yours" move, The Godfather drove to Old Dookie Rd, the one-upmanship on Bo obviously worth the 3937 hard yards. I'd taken a guess that Pistol, Rocket, Wozz and Emil ahead would more than cover the distance back to town, so by good luck (rather than good management) I'd be excused the effort of another turn. Just hanging on to that horsepower would be effort enough. Of course they did their standard strong shifts steering the team to Stellar's for the almost compulsory caffeine and post lap analysis. With his funeral just hours away, conversation ultimately swung to the legacy Col has left.
12/5 En masse.
Did somebody say free beer? Sanctuary Drive was swamped with starters on Wednesday ; word had got out of the lid being kept on pace and a big fan club descended on the grid. Emil, Kel, PistolPete, Bruce, The Godfather, Jen, Kreeky, GreatScottSteve, Rocket, Bo, Wozza, Laura, Boof, Tina, TrekTrev, Molly and Gazza made an attendance not seen since pre-Covid times. Play your position right today and you'd be towed around the whole lap without raising a sweat. (feels like 3.9 would guarantee that anyway!)
You-know-who started proceedings south, Joe (not Tony) arriving just in time to grab the caboose position as the long line swung 'round the roundabout. Not till beyond the truck route did an advance line form, a few possibly waiting at the back to see if the social speed really did stick? (Some may have wanted that tow all the way?)
I'd been snookered in the demotion of the left line so who was doing what at the front was a mystery as the line grew longer ahead but the speed stayed sane through Central Kialla where Grumpy arrived (without a late note from home). Hard on the gas into River Rd, Gazza stretched the long line longer as the rear reactions struggled to catch up with what the front was doing, why he took to the gravel at the roads edge was anybody's guess. A passion for dirt? So that set off an opposite reaction at the rear. We've been spoiled with the single filed smoothness of paceline over many months, how quickly we've lost that skill of forward judgement in a rotating mob (or are we dealing with a little too much light and shade?) Not till the Broken bridges did I get to the rearmost seat, and from there the line looked even longer! (Highly likely I wouldn't get a turn today) It's not often you find Molly in a mid-week lap, rare to find Laura in a big bunch too. It' certainly a good motivator to keep up the k's through winter. Bo and The Godfather (Laurel and Hardy?) turned us west into Old Dookie Rd, the mid 30's compliance taking the mob to Central Ave. Kel and Jen led the squad to SPC, only then did I reach the front to steer the slow path through town to its coffee conclusion.
13/5 Don't you just love the enthusiasm!
You know this day has been coming. It's been brewing for a few weeks now and you could almost set you watch to it. Temperature has been thinning the divisional ranks of riders down to the dedicated, so many already softening to Playstation on Pedals (Zwift) or become drawn to the dark side of the doona (those who squeal loudest in late September's seasonal shift when that flame of a comeback flickers) It's nothing new. Same old same old. Starting grids dwindle, heavy duty insulation is dragged from the depths of the wardrobe and just a few familiar fans of Rule #5 fight on. So my hopes were handbraked on a sizeable Wouldabeens response to my "6am starters?" on What's App. The silence was deafening! But BamBam finally raised his hand. Opening the door to "feels like 3" makes you question your own sanity at stupid o'clock ; it's going where others fear to tread that's probably the main motivator to turn a pair of wheels in this temperature (then there's the gold plated entertainment of watching the hibernators emerge in four months time to look forward to) HTFU Foss, there's only 16 weeks of this to go!
Under the delusion that a latecomer would appear, BamBam and I waited at the start line till 6 struck....and of course nobody arrived. Just two to lap would make that next turn at the business end come 'round fast. BamBam agreed to the Channel-Boundary-Old Dookie short circuit so I could satisfy a boss of starting work at 7:30, so I faced the music first for the shift to the truck route. Thinking I'd set a reasonable pace toward Channel Rd needed some soul searching glancing at the Garmin......was it really that slow? (taps screen to check satellites hadn't locked onto a nearby snail) HTFU (take #2) old boy! I couldn't blame the wind (there was none) and nothing's uphill in these parts, but the way east toward the truck route finally got mid 30's on the screen to Doyles Rd. Looking forward to a draft, I gave BamBam the privilege of pace setting and hoped I could calm the cardiac count before facing the front again. Too bad, BamBam's elbow showed me the drivers seat 1200 metres later. No complaints though, a little's better than nothing and I had the smooth surface of the ChaCha to ease the effort a poofteenth. It's not about measuring efforts anyway, I'll take what's on offer in this weather (so long as the wheel's predictable) or suffer the silence of a solo. BamBam did the Kinder to the cypress trees bit which caught my second wind, the turn to the S bend taken with less toil now that the oxygen tank wasn't on empty. Admittedly, tempo was turned down a tad to conform with BamBam's speed. (Fossilosophy #37B ; Don't toast your team-mate, you may need their draft / spare tube / shout for coffee / sympathy one day! The world's got enough big shot's anyway!) BamBam made good progress to Coach Rd and stayed on for the drive to the highway. Boundary Rd's well worn path lightened the rolling resistance but I'd restrained my target to front till the fig farm, all these turns were starting to take their toll! BamBam made it to Old Dookie Rd and gave me extra respite to School Rd so the least I could do was to front up for the distance to Central Ave. There'd be no being towed to town for me, BamBam had spent his wattage reaching Dobson's estate so donating a draft to SPC seemed fitting to #37B.
14/5 Uniformity?
Friday's kit day, right? Boof, PistolPete, Emil, Rocket, Wozza, Bo, Tina, Kreeky and Kel had conformed, suitably attired at Sanctuary Drive but The Godfather defied convention (must have missed the memo?) No prizes guessing who piloted the peloton south and with a horde of horsepower behind him (and ahead of me) made certain of a swift start. Joe (not Tony) joined at his usual last moment but was also without a note from Mum on his out-of-uniform state. A light west northwester chilled the bones but Emil turned the heater up to 40 on his hurry to Central Kialla.
Wozza dialed back the distress a couple of k's to keep the clan together to River Rd. I wasn't that pleased with my position in this procession as Rocket took the helm in a hurry, probably an idle for him but the sounds of struggle were coming from the caboose. Boof was made captain at Laws Drive and took a tad off the tempo (thus silencing the sufferers) toward the dip, though his long drive to rooster corner was slowly cooking me at second wheel. My job was to take over from the standards of division one, though I was happy to be ranked second best in this company! That west northwester was a nuisance toward the Broken bridges but I'd managed to make the prior pace, time at the rushin' front would be shortened though so I didn't blow a head gasket.
Staying true to tempo was my priority, slowing the speed can be someone else's signature. The head wanted to reach the bridge but the engine hollered "What the?!" 300 metres shy. Those last grams of grunt were saved to catch the tail. No, second last seat today, Kel called me in.....again! (out of character for Kel) Kreeky donated the draft to the highway while I got things slowly back into focus. The Godfather's 'middle-of-the-road' tactics toward Old Dookie Rd put Wozza to work making a proper draft for the rear half of the bunch, why The Godfather's speed see-sawed from 33 to 39 was anybody's guess. Joe (not Tony) donated a brief drive toward School Rd, PistolPete's exemption to the laws of aerodynamics powering into the 40's to Central Ave. What head wind? he was heard to say. Emil had the lead role from there and kindly calmed the hurry for those still hurting to a modest 39. Such a charitable gesture! (time for him to submit a sample to ASADA too!) Wozza and Rocket eased the pace into town (to avoid the blame being pointed at them?) so the sting subsided for the last couple of k's.
This week 240km YTD 5,365km
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