Week 4 : Blown gaskets and a fashion faux pas

Post 329

Brad begged to brave a prologue Saturday morning, most of the usual early tappers today tied up at the TDU, so it was just a duo to do Old Dookie, Boundary and Channel Rd, a Toaster extension added with time up our sleeves to click 32 k's.   An extended weekend for a lucky few may have dulled the attendance, only Lucy, Lynda, Cougar, Lenny, Nick, AvantiTrev, Boof, Ange and Pat had gridded on the Couldabeens carpark (the rear half again) to roll away at 6.  There was no signal for the smashed something strewn on the tarmac beyond the S bend, a thump and bump over something for me, thankfully without damage (Lenny too, pounded an unpointed pinecone prior).   Pace picked up in Boundary Rd with a friendly southwester, the Baum now not so new as 4,000 k's clicked up.  That nervous nuance of the newcomer niggled the nerves again, it's weird how we all integrate, climatise and soften to our regulars and their foibles, till an unknown quantity arrives to set off the caution alarm.  A porky palace perfume, a later but scenic sunrise at the Toaster, Ange's arid humour, Lucy's tidy and true turns of tempo, a stick for Boof to extract from front forks, avoiding Pat's errant wheel ahead (sudden bursts off the saddle).......all part of the rich Saturday tapestry.  The wind was wearing Brad down at the Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd kennels, a classic case of "headaling" at the front beside Boof.  Pat's enthusiasm on the next change of shift bolted him to the front, gapping the pack till the reality of slicing the southwester drew him quickly back into the fold.  A knowing smirk from Boof, a ridestyle recognition from Trav.....ones experience isn't so evident until it's seen lacking in another's (this weeks fix of Fossilosophy).  Ange's spirits had lifted from Friday's feline flogging, many of the usual irrepressible Couldabeens characters were missing from today's bunch, casting an odd aura over the ride. Over exuberance at the front was testing the wattage at the rear when accelerating from intersections, I became the joining link a couple of times to bring the backmarkers back in touch with the bunch.  Lenny and Brad were the first to front into Wanganui Rd, Boof and I left to bring the jug to the boil as we passed DECA, 42 km/h into a 24km/h southwester cooked my calves but served up the ideal lead-out for Ange to take the honours.  A concerted calm in Rudd Rd picked up the pieces left scattered by the sprint, a collective roll to the Lemontree to chat stupid Strava segments, selfies and a rearranged Australia Day ride.

Not questioning the rationale of rising at 4:30 to ride (the answer may have me certified), a 20k tap satisfied the prologue urge, a stiff southerly was reality's slap in the face on Boundary Rd.   Returning to town and fronting Friars found Brendan, Belly, Hommy, Coggo, Joe, Heady, Manny, Sandy, Bickers and Carl, prepared for peace train participation. Tina tallied twelve on the exit from town, a calm circuit to socially spend (Bickers' Tassie tour, Manny's Buffalo bash, Coggo & Heady's hit of Harry's Creek Rd, Tina's tap of the Dookie-Violet Town loop, and Belly's effort......a sublime Saturday-Sunday of sloth)  With my heart rate at an idle of 132, Lucy at the fig farm and Dalts at the Broken bridges were the northern soloists. By River Rd's end my social time had expired, exit stage right to head home via the truck route and Archer, the stiff southerly (19-30 km/h) the assisting icing.

A What's App call for Goat "sicko's" (wishing to add early k's to the Australia Day ride) inspired my foray to Friars at 6, but Belly's and Coggo's alarm malfunction left only Carl, CerveloJohn (the new Merida in the pits), Bickers and Leon to grind the Goat lap.  Bickers was hesitant till the assurance of a steady tap was given, an automatic Indian file was triggered with Carl's charge on Old Dookie Rd, but soon settled into a collaborative effort of long track turns (hr @ 150), shorter and cooler turns from Bickers still shaking off his holiday hiatus.  CerveloJohn took a long 4k haul on River Rd at the front, (readying race legs he said for the fast bunch of the Aust Day ride......really?).  Leon getting back into the bike habit managed well, Carl always in fine form but pacing himself for the distance ahead. Back into town, our compass was set to the Aussie, an invite to ride an Australia Day Toaster lap with entry dollars going to the Children's hospital. 

A civilised coffee and toast start chatting with long-time-no-see Clive, MeridaAndy, DocPaul, Kelvin, Jamie, Dion, Pete, BigBen and others, bunches of Goats, Cats, Adams family and the unaffiliated congregated as Couldabeens (Rocket, Wozza, Jase, Pistol, Kenworth, SuperMario, AvantiTrev, Boof, Jen, Cate, Cougar, Car+Mel, Temple, Brad, special Goat guest AvantiAndy and new-to-town Dazza) grouped for the flag drop. It was a tenuous tap through town, timing traffic lights, the concerted effort to coagulate Couldabeens into a pack, taking till Raftery Rd to achieve.  Wozz, Rocket, Boof and Temple set smooth standards to Mitchell Rd but catching and collecting others was inevitable, 'foreigners' soon infiltrating the rotation broke up the regular rhythm.  A propagated and populated pregnant peleton echeloned correctly up the road against the southerly, benefitting the first dozen, but the fourty plus behind were nearly in the gutter seeking a draft. With a fat Cat 'undertaking', strugglers diving for cover, the "on the brakes then off the saddle" rubberbanding , made it rather ugly on the back.  Discussions with the drivers in Boundary Rd discovered pumping up the pace (to knock off the barnacles) was on the cards, my preference to drop back for a steady slog home amongst 'wheeliable' friends won favour with Cate, Car+Mel.  Letting the lads and larrikins loose at the Emu, we geared up a quadrella for the 20k grind home, the SSE'er (13-17km/h) as niggling as Mr.Magnet.  I donated the towing service for the westward slog, the snap crackle and pop of the several spat out of the bunch ahead were gathered up by our clan to sit in the survival seats home.  NathaliaPaul drew alongside for a shift beside me in Ford Rd, Brad took a not-so-kosher breakaway and sprint up Wanganui hill (after being towed for 8 clicks).  Back into the suburbs, we'd caught the tail end of the A grade Couldabeens, the lure of beer and barbecue back at the Aussie an ideal post ride celebration of federation. Hats off to Troy, YipYooPhil and the Aussie staff for a great event (that wasn't an "event"), $1300 raised. 

Every traffic light hindered the Couldabeens commute Thursday, making the 5:45 deadline was slipping away quickly. A train of red l.e.d.'s arched into Channel Rd in the 600metre distance, a serious chase was needed to join. A passing Territory gave a few seconds of draft to motivate me into the 40's, digging deep and pounding the pedals for 1800 metres was a mental mountain to peak, legs and lungs screaming abandonment, but salvation shone a slim shadow of hope at the Channel Rd kink with BigRon and Nev returning to donate a rescue tow back, luck that traffic at the truck route had halted Boof, SuperMario, Rocket, Pistol, Shorty, Trav, Temple, Vince, AvnatiMat, AvantiTrev and new passenger Hoges. Sitting in the survival seat for a k to recover, I surveyed Hoges fashion faux pas (MTB boots, baggy racks and work shirt tucked into undies), but he can tap a tidy tempo!  Almost composed by the kinder, I joined the up line to earn my keep, sandwiched between Pistol and Trav I managed an average effort (cypress trees to the S bend) but the post traumatic pursuit disorder shortened my shift. Boof and Rocket ramped the pace up in River Rd, a few now doubting duty at the driving end. My head said harden up (the legs reply unprintable), taking a turn with Pistol in Central Kialla but softened a k later, the turn with Trav, torment to Mitchell. Resolving to tackle one more turn over the highway, AvantiMat rolled ahead of position and turned gatekeeper, blocking my swansong, thanks Mat, wouldn't have lasted long anyway!  BigRon spiced up Conrod as we crested the first dip, but Rocket pounced on the prey in the closing 300 as we trounced Troy cruising a solo finish.

A window of hope in the forecast begged a thrash on Friday's PainTrain, Coggo, Heady, CatCol, AvantiLeigh, PHIL, Dipper, Carl and Belly fronted Friars for cafe critique till 6.  The waft of a wanton westerly (15-30 km/h) promised we'd be tailwind heroes in Old Dookie Rd but hurting hobos homeward. Tina tacked on as we left town, 40+ all the way to Boundary swelled a few heads. AvantiLeigh, Coggo and co drove a hard bargain south toward the pub, Belly's contribution as short as Queensland Nickel dividends (spent all his speed on sarcasm prior)  Tina towed me to the bridges, I set a target of reaching River but optimism was buckling under the weight of realism, pedalling possessed, exertion (and emotion) edging eerily to either explosion or euphoria. (Should I worry that one eye shut sharpened the view beyond one tree dam?). Unbeknown, Heady's gasket had blown and gone OTA, we swung into River Rd with luck having me in the draft for the western leg. Belly gave some effort in Central Kialla Rd, then left me the lions share to Mitchell. CatCol, AvantiLeigh, Carl and Coggo put in the hard yards to the highway, traffic giving us a moments calm to compose and ready for Raftery.  Roubaix to Galbraith's spent my pennies, just 1000 metres to recover for Conrod's final fling. Belly suddenly put in a real turn at the front (clearly tanking prior) giving Carl the tow for youth to conquer all, Col bolted for second spot but I can't contain cracking Cat kitted contenders.

Week 4   312 km.       YTD 1,274 km

Week 3. Sprint sprees and gritty grannies

Post 328

Friday's nightclubbers were still staggering the streets as I solo'd south to A Mart at 4:45 Saturday morning, Trav, Temple and Jase keen to put 30k's under their wheels before the regular social spin.  Barely a zephyr blew up Raftery Rd  (7-15 km/h) but this softie sooked at the front, rolling across Temple at Galbraith's gate to pair with Jase to the highway.  Back into cruise mode thanks to the Trav and Jase tow to River Rd, Temple's rebellious streak rubbed off on all (except Trav) short cutting the corner.  To the dip with Temple, then to Boundary with Jase, the sun's rise from bed is noticeably later, just an orange glow on our turn into Boundary at 5:35.   Temple's tempo in Channel Rd exercised some effort, but got us to the starting grid with three minutes to socially spare.  Regulars AvantiTrev, Shorty, Car+Mel, Fisky, Cougar, Lucy, ChrisA and Brad had newbies Ric and ScottRoss, Mick & son along for the ride, rolling away at 6.  A shadow of unease had cast over the crew, ScottRoss taking a super short turn, Mick shepherding his son to the front despite navigational uncertainty (relief when he wisely sought direction), Ric riding a random line as conversation created concentrational chaos.  At least Lucy has rapidly mastered the smooth straight and strong turn, regulars now driving the front restored some semblance of order to the Toaster and Emu.  Rocket then Boof arrived from the west conserving Criterium crankability, SuperMario soon after, but he was on an alarm malfunction.  Ric conceded the simple art of riding is a complex one as he came to grips with peleton protocols, the bunch working its way west toward Wanganui. Unusually in gatekeeper role, Rocket gave me the rear roll call at DECA, SuperMario and Shorty up front had unwittingly towed Fisky to the business end of Wanganui hill.  Sensing an opportunity almost lost, I bolted from fourth wheel in pursuit (with Pistol nipping at my heels), surprisingly passing ChrisA, the Fisky target now close in my sights. Rounding the big black Giant half way up (Garmin glancing 191 bpm, 53km/h, 92rpm) I crested the hill in front, focus narrowing on the little white post 160 metres away. Blurring at the edges and Pistols whirring wheels still nibbling behind, exertion neared explosion as the legs gave up passing the post, time to brake for Rudd Rd anyway.  An answer to Pistols congrats mustered just two words, oxygen was the main priority as normal transmission of sentences wasn't resumed till the cemetery.   Breakfast banter on the TDU, MTB's and Australia Day ride plans was the social conclusion to 80k's.

A 5:10 driveway exit, plotting a Raftery-Mitchell-Archer course (to co-ordinate a Couldabeens carpark arrival at 6) started the working week, the trusty Cygolite slicing into the Raftery darkness for bunnies, mules and roos (thankfully wildlife free.....today)  The early arrival at Archer prompted a plan to extend to central Kialla and back via the truck route, avoiding the airbornes on the bitumen bubbles, back to Archer still with a few minutes to burn, so a casual crank to town was in order.  The Couldabeens carpark was as empty as WhisperingJack's Strava posts, hopes of a bunch tow around were abandoned, PistolPete the only one to front put a certain workout on the agenda.  It was hard to tell if I was matching him or was he matching me, but the legs quickly smouldered and the heart rate climbed on the escalator of effort, 162 and rising in the first k.  A skyline scribbled with orange and grey for the suns arrival was a decent distraction, my hopes were set on the feint northeaster handing help in Boundary and River Rd's.  It was relief to one tree dam till the pace lifted in response.  Still side by side in River Rd, a little conversation surprisingly didn't tax the lungs so much (ignoring the 171 bpm), comfort in convivial company and being economical with words helped.  But legs had reached the Jens moment over the River Rd bridge, hard for the mind to get over the matter of masochism and plug on. I reckoned Pistol was sympathetically adjusting his speed to level with my struggle (gasps and groans were becoming hard to silence after 12k's in zone 5), the sight of Conrod's 1000 metres laid ahead was heaven (the end is nigh) but hell for legs and lungs to labour.  Wrung out like an old sock over the line, but pleased with an average that couldn't have been motivated solo. 

A new pair of Pro4's and a KMC chain ramped up ride reassurance on Tuesday, the thinning old Michelins had faithfully served 5,900 k's (how very Scottish at 1.6 cents/km).   A 25k warm up on the New Dookie-Church-Toaster-Old Dookie circuit was a push into the breeze east, the Garmin beeping a lost satellite (your circuit's dead, there's something wrong Major Tom) at the Church, but the old I.T. cure of "try turning it off, then on again" fixed the function.  A tail wind back from the Toaster nearly got me to the Friars church on time, u-turning at Corio St to join Goats, Hommy, Belly, Coggo, Principal Skinner, Phil, AvantiAndy, CerveloJohn (sorry, Cervelo sacked, now it's MeridaJohn), Sandy, Heady, Deb, Snow, HG Phillo and Spartacus. Tina and Miles (puncture punted from Pussycats) jumped aboard at Doyles, Geoffrey and another joining at Central Ave.  Carl arrived from the east as we finished Old Dookie, Belly's alter ego WBK (whole bike king) was the days persona as I attempted a turn beside him to the highway (I did allow him to lead, showing compassion for his compulsive performance insecurities).  Deb has totally transformed from Caboose captain to possessed performer, hammering out 40km/h turns at the pointy end, Spartacus is back on the Trek after a Nippon trek, and Heady was relishing the ride without the brakes on.  Hommy's chain was a cacophony of clatter, how sweet the whirr of my new KMC. The speed got serious in River and Mitchell Rd (Titans in a tailwind) but punters had thinned by Arcadia Downs, an 'in-your-face' northeaster on Conrod trimmed the contenders down to Coggo, Carl and I for the last 500.  Coggo was in the box seat for my, then Carl's lead, a well earned win on legs murdered my mountains in the last week.  MeridaJohn, possibly "pipped at the post" perplexed, pounded up the main drag, towing many home. 

The old Cat lap (Old Dookie-Boundary-Channel) fed the prologue obsession on Wednesday, cloud cover blackening any scenery beyond the Cygolite's reach, 39% humidity delivering a dry roast at 25 degrees.  Stuck on the 17 spin was kind on the legs as the breeze swung SSE to ESE, taking a Poplar Ave diversion to soak up a few minutes ahead of schedule. The cruise to the carpark found Boof, Jen, Nick, Cougar, AvantiMat, AvantiTrev, Chops, Jase, BigRon, Cate, Car+Mel, GazzaGrasshopper and Ross.  Ensconced between Cate and Jen delivered me a decent workout on the journey south to Mitchell, the wind still wandering as central Kialla was covered. There was work for us to do eastward as westbound Cats were about to be swallowed by 51 at the River Rd dip, another workout for me in Boundary as the bunch stacked up the road, Cate and Jen delivering a good turn of speed. I lucked a rear position as the pack flew into the kinder corner preparing for the Cha Cha, GazzaGrasshopper had tucked in for a tow, and at Prentice Rd let (wobbly) loose for the sprint, Choppy beside, baiting him with conversation. I set off from 4th wheel to pursue, slowly making up ground when Chops delivered the killer kick to crush all contenders, satisfied I scored a second (56clicks a surprise), 9th overall for the Cha Cha a nice reward. 

A 5am launch to tap the Toaster solo on Thursday, a loop of the quarry leg was added for the spice that is variety (the plan to rejoin the traditional circuit to chase, or be chased, in a lucky dip of clockwise clans).  It was a happy tap out Rudd and Wanganui on the aerobic threshold (139bpm) till the final metres of Ford Rd dangled the chase bait of a blinking red l.e.d. ahead, curse the competitive cravings!  Slowly gaining ground by the Emu, I was surprised to see the lure continue east, so it was head down and cadence up (80rpm) in pursuit to the quarry.  The taillight turned headlight atop the Col de Cosgrove, me as fervent follower became a fossil followed on my turn into Quarry Rd.  Cicadas chorused my renewed effort, this shifty shadow behind would have to work to stay in touch!  Onto New Dookie Rd and onto the 15 tooth cog, I bumped into zone 5 to open a gap, a glance back on reaching the church confirmed the job done.  West at the Toaster and Mt.Major's crimson halo unfortunately behind, I crested the bridge (main eastern channel) to see Cats cranking their carriages south in Boundary, the void between felines and Goats was mine to meditate.  The horizons crimson had faded to orange then dulled to pink by River Rd, new lights behind stirred my speed west, feline taillights drawing steadily away ahead. 160bpm was the new ceiling, Central Kialla and Mitchell covered at a cursory clip. Those trailing lights had drawn closer by Galbraith's gate, not enough in my legs to propel against the pair by Conrod, Ange and GazzaGrasshopper slipping by in the final 400. 

A quiet little tap of the golf course loop mentally prepared me for the Friday PainTrain, Coggo, Belly, Dipper, AvantiLeigh, Heady, Carl and Deb arriving at Friars, with some admitting the trepidation of the trains' tempo (there's some comfort in the shared emotion, be it verbal or just a knowing glance).  With Heady's brakes released and Deb installed as caller from the caboose (determined to test her tenacity), my hand went up for first turn to Dobson's bridge, then tucked into a drafting bliss behind big Belly (bordering on B-double) to aid my recovery.  Coggo, AvantiLeigh, Heady, Dipper, Carl then Belly towed us to the Pine Lodge pub, the time chimed for my second dip to the Broken bridges.  The bait of closing in on a solo Nicolaci at one tree dam drove Coggo and AvantiLeigh to reach River Rd rapidly.  There was plenty of supportive calls as each finished their shift at the front, all mindful of Deb's tenuous caboose coupling on accelerations.  River Rd blurred quickly by,  Belly apologetically handing me the last k to drive to Central Kialla Rd.  We'd pursued and passed a pooped Poppa (strangely speechless) approaching Archer, was he cast off from fast felines as excess baggage?   Traffic at the highway caused a pause, visits to the puffing end were shortening in Raftery as Conrod drew near, AvantiLeigh digging deep to catch Snow and Jan in the dying metres.  Hats off to the determined Deb, a gritty grandprix granny with the drive to survive a 39.2 average. (when she shied from the train till today)

Week 3   384km.      YTD 962.

Week 2: A pilgrimage to bike Mecca

Post 327

Sometimes it's just solitude needed on the bike, pigeon-holing life's bits and pieces into some form of priority and just enjoying the silence (and viewing) the start of a new day (#21,323 in my case).  A self inflicted Strava Grand Fondo bait inspired an early start, a clockwise toaster lap at 4:50 to join the Goats in the unwind of an anti-clockwise return.  Proportioning pace to distance handbraked my hurry out to the Emu, a light SSW breeze would give me something to grizzle about in Pine Lodge and Boundary roads (though not too tiresome on the 17 toothed cog).  Dalts, then Vince and Jase were northbound on Boundary, River road slowly bathed in yellow light as the sun got out of bed behind me.  Tapping away at 139 bpm seemed to be the recipe for survival, calculations for the arrival at the Goat grid timing neatly into the schedule.  It was a relief rounding Roubaix corner with the wind finally behind me for the 10k back to base, touch down on the 6:30 knocker at Friars, finding Tina, Coggo, Hommy, AvantiAndy, AllegroJohn, Deb, Sandy and Belly (with newbies Ric and Paul) ready to roll.  It was good to be in a social fold (and tucked into a draft) for the spin south to Raftery starting a reverse Toaster tap, some toil to Mitchell, but then there was the benefit of the breeze back. Stacked up the road bearing east (against the wind bearing south) is an automatic action for many, newbie Ric was educated and enlightened in the delight of a draft, although cranking with his shoulders spinning in a cog too high (you have much to learn Grasshopper!), but Belly's pace shortening his turns to retreat.  The business of velocity in Boundary Rd (tailwind heroes!) silenced social sentences, impressive turns by Tina and Deb to take us to Old Dookie Rd where it was eased to echelon to the Toaster. The newbies had vanished as we turned from Emu corner (possibly pickled by pace?), the 12k back to civilisation being shared amongst the seven, but then there were six as retirement became popular.  My legs started an argument with the head's wishes in Wanganui Rd, content to sit back in the midfield and let sprightly sprinters spruke. Breakfast (part 2) menus miraged rolling into town, the reality of Mandy's eggs and bacon on toast savoured with the post ride chat on evolving riding styles and vended booze.  

A little loop of the Ford-Boundary-Channel tarmac was Monday's precursor to the Couldabeens, don't you just love the serenity at 5:20, a silent symphony to serenely settle senses, even before the fledglings were farting!  I cranked calmly along at 145 bpm, an excuse for a southerly (4-11 km/h) in Boundary barely hindered (helped Vince northbound to a "Cattack") then a sheltered Channel Rd cruise back to town, just across the truck route to join the Couldabeens contingent (Pistol, Jase, Boof, AvantiTrev, BigMat, BigRon, with probationary peletoneers Ross and Gazz attached). I slotted in beside BigMat (cypress trees to the S bend), then almost paired with Gazz (S bend to Boundary) as enthusiasm and apprenticeship varied his velocity......Gazzagrasshopper a better moniker maybe?  AvantiTrev trimmed a couple of clicks off the tempo in Boundary Rd but Pistol and Jase turned it back up again when cutting the River Rd atmosphere, Ross in the caboose, sitting his VCE (virgin Couldabeens exam).  We passed P&W mainstays Princess and Fee at Laws Drive, a solo Sully (Cat spat?) jumping aboard a k later for a tow home. BigMat pushed half of Central Kialla Rd at the front,  Gazzagrasshopper rolled up beside me and stayed, still half wheeling / half biking to Mitchell, and then on further to Archer, perplexed on protocols? (a knowing grin from Boof when he finally succumbed to roll).  The turns remained routine all the way to Conrod, BigMat and I positioned at the pointy end till out of the first dip, Gazz arriving for duty as the pace percolated. I wound up the wattage as the finish line beckoned, just the luscious lead out that Jase and Boof wanted, holidays hadn't hindered Boof's velocity for victory.

I seized the opportunity, with a few days in the big smoke, to make the pilgrimage to bike Mecca (Beach Rd), a Mordialloc start at 16 degrees to St.Kilda and return (46k's).  The tarmac was filled with bikes, north and southbound, in solo's, pairs, small bunches and over populated trains (50+), young and old, large and small, a few commuters and the inevitable hero or two, and bikes of all descriptions and colours.  A light ESE blew sea air into the nostrils, a big orange ball dawning atop the ocean on the Beaumaris bends. The grand old "Edgy" (the 1880 Mentone Hotel) stands proud but empty amongst the rows of concrete and glass boxes pretending to be mansions, at least the ridiculous rates have provided a hot mix billiard table to roll on for all to enjoy.  Passing a few ones and twos (and being passed by the vexed and virile) up to the slight inclines of Black Rock, a monster bunch behind had slowly swallowed me up.  Offered a berth midfield, I counted 30 ahead as concentration was sharpened to razor edge, the pack powering on to Hampton in the fourties, strangely synchronising an endless forrest of stale green traffic lights.  A courtesy holler from a faster bunch passing filled the lane with four rows, then swelled wider as slower soloists were overtaken.  With the comfort meter showing empty, I withdrew from the precarious packed train, joining a smaller bunch of 6 behind a bit.  So many side streets of Brighton were filled with small bunches readying to join the Beach Rd brigade, the Marina with an abundance of Lycra wrapped candy jogging the paths to court the corneas, I was more impressed by the manners of the engined traffic negotiating our swarms of carbon clad chicanes. Beyond another grand pub (the 1878 "Espy"), I pulled over to prepare for a u-turn, and a chance to snap a seaside pic of the bike (does that make it a 'beach Baum'?).  There were smaller groups on the return (St.Kilda's cafes packed with peletoneers quaffing coffee), for a steady tap back to Mordialloc, striking up a yarn with SunburyFrank (Corsa SR) on bike culture and its addiction, impressed with my custom made titanium. It was 7:30 and bunches large and small still plied the northbound route, our pace south climbing back into the fourties to finish on a high.  With no apparent social final resting place (cafe) at the pier, I wheeled my way to Main St for a solo flat white finish.

Back home for Thursday's Goat gathering, the southwester (22-44 km/h) had frightened a few away.  Deb, Heady, Belly, Brendan, Sandy, Hommy, Phil and AvantiAndy had braved the starting grid, exiting town Brendan took the limelight with a dislodged light as we picked up Tina.  Barely 60kg wringing wet, 'foreigner' "Kha" had infiltrated the ranks, wriggling his way along (the Focus seat post 40mm too high) with see-saw hips and pointed toes, a close call with Goat Phil's wheel setting off a code red amongst the ranks.  Some were on short shifts against the stiff southerly, Deb holding the caboose rights following the muscle murder of a myotherapists massage.  Bickers was caught nearing Benalla Rd taking the numbers to a dozen, I plugged a long turn with Tina in River Rd, with wheels whipped by the wind.  A tough slog into the wind in Central Kialla, then a chorus of sighs on the sharp turn to Roubaix with the breeze off the brow, pace primed for Conrod.  Arriving at the business end as the pack crested the first dip, I found Kha tucked in behind me and with no others volunteering their services, they were going to pay for a tow! A Garmin glance read 55 clicks, the finish too far away at that pace, I eased a bit to suggest Kha have a turn (buying a brief breathing window to challenge the finish).  Out of his draft and into the final dip, I'd inherited the inertia to take the chocolates, 191 bpm cancelling the chat till east (and eased) of punch-up bridge.

Summer suffered a setback Friday morning, 10 degrees a stark contrast to Thursday's 20.  I trawled the cupboards depths for the long abandoned base layer and arm warmers to survive the southwester chilling the ride to the Couldabeens grid, a band of 16, similarly rugged up, assembled for battle. (Jen, Wozza, Boof, Pistol, newbie Bruce, Shorty, Nev, SuperMario, Bo, Choppy, Kel, Cate, Temple, Jase, Rocket and AvantiTrev)   Six bells and chocks away, a translation of toil was interpreted from Bruce's body language on the slog south, Cate caring in her turn beside me to Mitchell, Pistol punishing.  Socially warmed in the conversation on the anti-clockwise roll back through the ranks, Bo on a 40th, Chops on Adelaide, SuperMario on schedules, Temple on prologues, AvantiTrev on a stick incident, Shorty on sun gazing, Nev on Ballarat and Rocket on beaches, but pierced by Poppa's passing parable in River Rd and a probationary Pain Train (Brendan, Hommy and Dipper, with HG Phillo 200 metres OTA) in Boundary.  All the way to the kinder before my turn on the front again, drawing the short Cha Cha straw leading to Hopeful corner beside Jase, then rolling to drive to Prentice Rd.  Being gobbled up by almost the entire field can put the negatives in the neurosis but it's the reality of the real estate rule in a sprint; position, position, position is the prescription, served with a large measure of Velominati rule #5.

Week 2    294km      YTD 578km

Week 1 Fanning the flames of the car vs bike war

Post 326

A solid southerly tested the resolve to A Mart in the early hours of Saturday, yet another 4:45 departure clocking early k's.  Wozz, SuperMario and Temple had nominated for the 36k prelude to the regular ride, south on Raftery Rd's headwind, I counted telephone poles to put a positive on progress, each one numbered, another less to travel. (When it's real toil, count fence posts!)  Spirits lifted as we swung east into Mitchell Rd and how pleasing the perspective of River Rd with the breeze behind the right shoulder (a different view headlong into the easterly last Thursday).  Tap, tap, happily on Boundary, Channel Rd's return west was punctuated by squadrons of insects providing protein to anyone with their mouth ajar. Us four made it back to the car park within a minute of launch, Pistol, Lucy, Rocket, Shorty, Cougar, Car+Mel, Jase and Cate made it a dozen for duty.  There was some sorting of the stack across the tarmac on Channel Rd bearing east, a Boundary Rd blessing then earnestly east on Old Dookie.  Some jocular jostling for position in the caboose as we rounded the Toaster, Lucy now bike besotted as a solid Saturday starter.  Driving from the Pine Lodge creek to Lemnos Rd (4k) beside Jase pushed my parameters of a standard turn, just a measure of self worth.  Ford Rd's speed in the high 30's was stretching the limits of a few, Cate had detached from the draft at Matilda Drive, the Couldabeens compassion for comradery caused a back-off the throttle to keep the bunch bonded.  A steadier pace along Wanganui, perfecting the fine art of drafting in echelon and with the sprint struck off the register, true teamwork came into perspective, brownie points earned from those giving maximum wattage to stay in touch.  The strengthening southerly (20-37 km/h) did its best to whittle down our speed on the Boulevard, but little deters a rider reaching caffeine!  Seven peaks, mountains, bike bling and Kurt's crazy k's for December (10,656) employed tongues between bites of breakfast at the Lemontree table.

Almost jilted Sunday night by Monday's forecast, but passion was rekindled by Monday's cleared radar. New Dookie Rd beckoned the bike, a spin on the seventeen to the church sensing an easterly, a solitary oncoming headlight reckoned to be Tina cranking copious k's, I focussed just a few metres ahead, saving the corner (too far away) as a surprise.  Eventually evangelical at the Pine Lodge church, I was down to the Toaster by 6, pointed back to town on Old Dookie with directional decisions favouring a solo squirt, Cats (or was it madamoiselles on a mission?) a few k's ahead.  Just love the second k of River Rd, tarmac as smooth as Hollywood's head, making Mavic music, flat-lining the heart rate and speed to get home without blowing a gasket.  A funny feeling of followers was confirmed at Galbraith's gate, the Rocket-Pistol-BigMat-BigRon train passing with a free ticket of a tow home was too good to refuse, an assisted passage of pace to finish 46 k's.

The ritual rigmarole of fuelling the breakfast tank, kitting up, pocketing pump, tube, phone and keys, donning specs, helmet and shoes, tending to Garmin, lights and tyre pressures, opening the front door to see the first drops of rain falling! A sixth sense spelt certain saturation as the morbid easterly dragged nasty nimbus across the horizon, was this but passing precipitation? The cloud of lost opportunity niggled at the neurosis till 6, relentless rain remanding rest, somewhat (and strangely) smug, knowing many others were in the same boat. 

Another two half grid formation at Wednesday's Couldabeens, Car+Mel, Cate, Wozza, Jen, AvantiAndy, Nick, Pistol, SuperMario, Cougar, Rocket, Shorty, Lenny, Lynda, AvantiTrev and Temple eventually forming as one.  A calm start so the bunch gap (from traffic) could be bridged by Kialla Lakes, Wozz and I assumed the first shift to the roundabout, 3000 metres seems an eternity! The routine of rollovers got underway to Mitchell Rd, Team FMC at Kialla Central commenced the clockwise peleton parade, Cats, 51, P&W's, Goats and others lapping (and lapping up) a Summer morning.  A few of our lot short shifted nearing the front, reasonably pacy with a slight SSW'er in our favour.  Some are slowly emerging from holiday hibernation and paying the price on pace, I've been fairly fresh with a break from the almost habitual prologues.  A bit of chat passed Boundary and Channel Rd by, down to the business of the Cha Cha (the sole purpose for some) with Pistol and Shorty leading to the kinder, Wozz and I to hopeful corner.  Lenny tore into the tempo passing Wozz, but his body language was interpreted as imminent explosion.  Wozz retook the lead, I loaned a tow beyond Prentice Rd to keep the kettle boiling, but Rocket casually cranked an extra 10% into the pace to humiliate all, Pistol the only one to stay in touch. Curt news of Lynda dropping off the back reached us at the truck route, but only Team Chivalry (Temple and I) about faced to assist her back to the pack.

A cruisy Boulevard tap soaked up the minutes from an early exit from home, pondering what possesses a Pussycat to be lumen-less in traffic at 5:43 am. A dare? A deathwish? Or just plain dumb? (certainly fans the flames of the car vs bike war)  The assembly at Friars included Joe, AllegroJohn, Principal Skinner, Deb, Coggo, Belly, Heady, Dipper, Hommy, Phillo and Snow, Tina (as always) added on the outskirts.  Filing the figment of frustration on Phillo's fall-back and the casual cranking on Old Dookie Rd, I lapped up the solicitous social side, keeping the prime function of a smooth and straight line paramount.  The grizzle of the flat-lander (wind) was found in Boundary Rd, a SSW'er (11-17 km/h) eagerly shared amongst all 13 to speed our arrival at River Rd. (Phillo retreating on Channel Rd)  Fast forward to Roubaix, Rooster Roscoe was the bunch bait, caught just beyond Galbraith's as the tempo turned toasty. Just Coggo, Heady, Snow, Dipper and I were left labouring the front as six strugglers strung silently at the back.  Snow and Dip seemed to have hit their limit out of Conrod's first dip, so, to rip up the routine, I buried myself in a 350 metre lead out, averting eyes on the 173 bpm but fixing them on 47 km/h.  Endurance had evaporated by the last dip, the last penny spent flicking an elbow for Coggo to claim the chocolates, dragging a single file of survivors in his wake.

Sauntered the streets to soak up the premature minutes to the Friday pain train, long-time-no-see Fee en-route to Friars. Just Dipper, Heady, AvantiLeigh and Tum were present to participate, Belly bowed out with a blown tube.   Somewhat despondent, we set off for Old Dookie to battle the breeze (20-28 km/h southerly), salvation appearing as Coggo at SPC, a blown tyre hadn't curbed his commitment.  Feeling fairly (but furtively) frisky, I took the first shift idling through town, up to cruising speed to the truck route, then opened the throttle to Dobson's bridge, pleased holding 40, but I think I cooked second wheel Heady a bit early.  Compassion cooled the heels after Central Ave, Dipper, AvantiLeigh, Coggo and Tum slowly building the velocity to Boundary.  Southbound into the headwind tested us all, gaining ground (and passing) Paul Van P and bro-in-law (who jumped aboard) at one tree dam.  A wave to eastbound Couldabeens in River Rd, Coggo towed me to the favoured stretch of Tarmac, letting me loose to drive to Laws Dr (arriving spent), AvantiLeigh's passing praise of "sick unit" a rich reward. Six sliced the wind to Mt.Nicolaci, Coggo handing me the ascent to take the train to the highway (grateful to stop for traffic to recompose the respiratories)  Chuffed at the tailwind but puffed at the pace in Raftery Rd, it was full steam ahead (eager to end the exertion) for Conrod, Coggo calling it quits with 400 left to go.  A glance back confirmed it was just us two, then the wide open spaces to the left-overs behind, inspiring to end the week with a 54 km/h finish.

Week 1.   243km.   YTD 284 km

Word up to Mexican Daniel, a monster mountain mission to "Everest" Mt.Major last Sunday.   53 consecutive climbs of our little 168 metre hill in 16hrs 24min to surpass Everest's 8800 metres,  a huge effort! Recommend you read his blog <danielbovalino.com> for an insight into the vanquishing vegan.

And get around velominati.com>the rules, wickedly witty yet wise words on the world of road bikes.