Post #610
11/9 Social sustenance.
To hell with fast average speeds and producing lots of watts (no chance of that happening!), this Saturday was going to be a tame tap, particularly as there wasn't a bunch standard to live up to. A stress free speed so legs would stop hating me for a change. Mounting the bike at six seemed sublime, a breeze assisted roll south to Mitchell Rd was the whim, wondering if the old farmhouse still stood (excavators had trenched nearby but had yet to deliver the final blow) The rising sun at my back on Mitchell didn't make "feels like six" any better and I was guessing the route via Raftery Rd to town was going to hand-braked by the wind but there was nobody to keep up with or time clocks to honor and there's certainly no trophies at the finish of Conrod straight.
So maybe it was the shame of seeing twenties on the Garmin screen that poked some pace into me? Ah, the standards we impose on ourselves! (we're our own worst enemies sometimes) A whack on the helmet from the Mazda magpie (a close cousin to the Peppermill pie?) in Melbourne Rd was my memo Spring had sprung, but I was on a direct course to the Butter Factory to rendevous with the Weapon for a slice of social sustenance and a steady spin. Released for a couple of hours from stay at home standards for freedom on the bike has many of us seeking something social and I've far exceeded the recommended dosage of this solo stuff (the side effects of answering your own questions are beginning to show, a signal of chronic infection?)
The saving grace of digital face-to-face kick-started the chat, self policing some form of fitness during lock-down and keeping the creative fires burning consumed the k's of the Boulevard, Rudd, Wanganui and Verney, the delights of riding in daylight still treasured with memories of winters' darkness still fresh in the pre-frontal cortex (give it a few weeks and there'll be grizzles about the heat! Hard to please us humans) Threading through Hawdon, Railway Pde and Archer, the magnetism of lapping Kialla Lakes drew us to Waranga Drive. Maybe peak hour had passed? Not a bike to be seen. A check of the time revealed it was well beyond coffee o'clock so the beacon became the Butter Factory (of course) PistolPete and The Godfather were headed homeward as we put noses north (Mazda magpie strike two) and arrived to swap a sentence or three with Bruce and Lenny, Emil and Bo, Wendy and Jase, paired in chat out front. Sitting on the footpath with the warmth of the sun on the outside and the warmth of caffeine on the inside ranked as a simple yet sublime pleasure of Spring.
13/9 Creaky and Kreeky.
Like a rusty old hinge, something was creaking metronome-like on an eastern path of New Dookie Rd. It was becoming rhythmically annoying. I'd lubed the chain last Thursday and Darren's ti crafted masterpiece is as quiet as a church mouse, maybe the Craftworx hoops have finally decided to complain after 46,000 km?) Hang on, it's probably that rusty old engine making it's Monday groans! Yet another different course was set to lift some enthusiasm, though steering south into Central Ave tested the spirits facing a 20 km/h south southwester.
The way home would have a tail-wind though.....I hope. First light made the mood better and the course west on Channel Rd made mid thirties possible without blowing a gasket. Skippy's round one with a B double ended badly at the truck route ; I give way to them 'cause they're bigger! I'm a sucker for circling Kialla Lakes, hardly a straight road to numb the senses and a head-wind only lasts a minute or two. Besides, you don't feel so silly riding at stupid o'clock when others are found doing it! PistolPete and The Godfather, Lenny and Bruce are full time employees in these parts during lock-down. I'd almost resigned to riding solo when Kreeky appeared in Waranga Drive so some social k's ensued.
With the problems of the world solved (predicting PistolPete's pace and how we'd survive the speed of a bunch), we put a few variations into the lap ; A southern extension from Sevens Creek onto Egret and added an extra to Sanctuary Drive via Marlboro and Kerang (not even on Google maps yet!) to put some new tarmac under the wheels (that earlier creak was now inaudible, so was struck off the worry list). Inevitably, time became the enemy for me to head homeward, with the treat of that tail-wind to get me there. Off the seat when the traffic light changed green, and that creak came back. Now that daylight had arrived to assist, a closer look found the front quick release wasn't quite locked tight. Easier to fix than a suspected hip replacement!
14/9 Hey! Shut the fridge door!
And here's me thinking winter had been well and truly been put o.t.a! Wishful thinking Foss, the cold came back to bite! Just as well Joe (not Tony) had put his hand up to ride, I'd have softened faster than a Wouldabeen and stay in bed if he hadn't. Circuit possibilities pondered, I'd convinced Joe (not Tony) to lap the Channel, Boundary and Lemnos-Cosgrove course and let time dictate the way home when we got back to town. 2.4 degrees took some effort to get the circulation going, so a push south to Channel Rd into a light south southwest breeze warmed the legs up.
Joe (not Tony) could do the leg to the truck route as pink tinted the horizon. And so the shifts were shared in more or less of equal effort, at one point in Boundary Rd I thought I'd missed the message from Joe's elbow to take the lead role but he was keen to forge on to the fig farm. A kangaroo kept pace alongside in a field as we neared Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd and unsure of Skippy's flight path, we applied a little caution at the intersection (over the fence and bounding Boundary Rd in the blink of an eye I'd imaged that south southwester would work against us toward town but in fact it seemed easier working west. I wasn't about to question the science of it, just sit back and enjoy the moment 'cause I knew it wouldn't last (could someone forward me the recipe so I can cook it up again at will!) Time was kind reaching Grahamvale Rd fror us to continue on Wanganui Rd, the sun rising behind us of little benefit to warm us, just cast long shadows ahead.
15/9 Patriot games.
Without a clue on a different course, I braved a circuit based on an idea; anything in the pursuit of variety to keep interest alive! A few images had flickered in the skull and by chance, they had a recurring Australian theme. At opposite ends of the town, this would guide Wednesday's course (if I could trust that whim in the frontal lobe) Armed with camera (in phone), my task was to capture a few and maybe discover some others on the way. The lack of a kangaroo on a pole at the northern end was my first fail but the way back via Verney found a fine first light at the Channel to capture.
Minus point four bit at the shutter finger but the view was worth it. The southbound search for a 'roo road sign failed to find one, but the rusty old tractor (as garden art) caught my eye on Archer Rd. By pure luck the old Howard was Australian built (1922-1985)
Couldabeens (Bruce, Grumpy, Lenny and Boof) came out of Sanctuary appropriately distanced (to the last centimetre), Bo and Kel a k behind as I set sights west toward Raftery. I'd forgotten about Emerald Bank's windmill, a worthy Aussie image silhouetted at sun-up, but Raftery's 'roo sign was the pursued pic and arriving there someone had prized it already!
One was definitely standing on the Midland Highway so I steered that way now that time was turning against me but made a brief halt for the bonza bottlebrush (Myrtoideae) flashing it's red stop light on the way.
It had taken most of the k's to finally capture the kangaroo pic then I recalled Tank's aussie flagged cow at Monash Park on the way home. This theme may not ever end!
Of course the final patriotic pic was that of Mr. Baum's under me, 81,000 k's and good as the day it was crafted in Geelong, it's just the engine that's worn out now!
16/9 The bunch baptism.
The lock-down leash had finally loosened (a little) to allow a bunch (up to ten) the freedom to congregate and soak up the social stuff we'd all craved for weeks. I'll admit to suffering a bit of performance anxiety on the commute to Sanctuary's roundabout with Emil, barely breaking 32 km/h and Scotty was already hollering "I'm givin' her all she's got Capt'n!" How I'd live up to the bunch pace was the $64,000 question. Kel, PistolPete, Emil, Joe (not Tony), Kreeky, Bo, The Godfather and Greg gathered like kids at a lolly shop for the 5:40 flagfall, PistolPete (indubitably) leading the re-united clan south considerately light on the throttle (for those of us that were stressing over a speed swifter than solo). Third wheel was a suitable sit, fingers crossed that Emil wasn't in mass murder mood when he took on the second shift to Central Kialla (maybe he felt the 0.1 degrees too?)
I'd survived his draft without losing the will to live, now to deliver a drive worthy of the squads standards myself! Two k's north to River Rd seemed to last far longer than 3 minutes 10, leaving a little in the tank to catch the last wheel when Bo took over was hard when the gauge read empty 300 metres shy. Bo had the tempo nudging forty to the bridge, Joe (not Tony) slipping from third wheel to the safety of the caboose to survive.
Kel put pace back into the realms of sensible and Kreeky eased the pain a little more, but that only baited The Godfather to show off his velocity. If you look up quick in the dictionary, you'll find a picture of PistolPete ; several weeks of lock-down limits and he comes back as fast as ever. And doing the distance doesn't bother him either (all the way to the highway before he relinquished the drivers seat to Emil) Would Emil mimick the master? I'd be in trouble if he did. Emil had the wheels humming almost to the fig farm where his head dropped a little and that tell-tale grab for a lower gear happened ; get ready for your second shift Foss, you're about to be shown an elbow. I wasn't quite ready for the reality of 15% more drag out of the draft, I too dropped the head (and a gear) to keep that tempo smooth for the benefit of those behind. I'd thought about doing a bit of Old Dookie Rd as an extra but then common sense quickly took hold, I was more than happy to hand over to Joe (not Tony) for his contribution toward School Rd. All that was left for me to do was hang on and be towed to town, the joy of being back in a bunch!
17/9 What's that Skip? You won the sprint stage to Mitchell Rd?
The same squad fronted Sanctuary Drive Friday, uniformed resplendently in Couldabeens kit, the same silly concerns cramming my cranium about surviving the speed (possibly a post-lockdown phobia?) I captained the caboose to play it safe and buy maximum preparation time as PistolPete slowly brought the pot to the boil. A holler of Slow! had brakes working overtime as a 'roo tried to join the paceline, Skippy was keen to win the stage but couldn't decide which side of the road to use (may have been trained by The Godfather?) The 'roo finally vaulted the fence and Emil made haste toward Central Kialla, despite the head-on easterly.
The Godfather made the 2 k drive to River Rd look easy but Greg felt the wrath of the wind to River Rd's bridge. He wasn't saying much when he retired from duty ; and here's me at forth last wheel hoping I'd be spared the headwind! Joe (not Tony) took the lead to take us to the dip (bless him, we could soak up a bit more oxygen for a minute or two) but the extra oxygen only built up extra watts in Kreeky then Bo on their mission to make haste to Coach Rd. (wonder why the rooster has been quiet of late? Barbequed?) Lucky me had the smoothness of Kel's wheel to follow north toward the Broken, the variations in velocity only detectable in .01's......and that made sitting in second wheel sweet. Was she going for the long drive to the highway? Her elbow said otherwise at the Broken's second bridge so 2 k's worth of work to the highway was a fair trade-off for being towed the other 26 km.
PistolPete took on Boundary Rd with a conservative start, by the bridge all heads were down and heart-rates up to stay in his draft. Greg extended his stay on the circuit today and donated his second drive in Old Dookie Rd, but took his leave via School Rd to exit homeward. Bo completed the charge to Central Ave. The Godfather flexed his new-found fitness at Dobson's estate, those few weeks of lock-down at Pistol's pace have moved him up a rung or three but it was nice to do the final leg below the rev-limiter thanks to Joe (not Tony's) sensible speed into the suburbs.
This week 269 km YTD 9,563 km
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