Crusher made the short Journey from Lynnwood to Marysville for the first annual and consecutive McDiesel Classic Road Ride.
With Swiss precision, the riders rolled out the door from the FSI building. This was in sharp contrast to years past when riders would trickle out over a fifteen minute period and then scrounge for floor pumps and “oops, I forgot my helmet, just a minute” delays. In no time the elite peloton was assembled and ready to suffer.
Hammering man was astride the Black Mojo which was a spectacle to behold with its glossy carbon weave, matching carbon bars and American Classic Hubs laced to red anodized Velocity rims. The Zero Gravity brakes and Campagnolo drivetrain set off the ultralight climbing machine. The oversized seat pack must have held some secret propellant, as its bulky styling and excessive size seemed ill matched to the purpose built roadster.
I apologize, for once again, I digress.
The ride was to celebrate the departure of one Paul “McDiesel” from his current employ – thus exiting the peloton only to return for special occasions as Crusher had returned to honor his comrade. Uberman was decked out in stylish riding apparel that indicated his wonderful wife has continued to exercise her good taste in selecting and procuring his riding apparel. Captain Sunshine, though quiet, was likewise decked out like he rides fifty miles on his lunch hour every day and this was just another fast paced ride for him.
Always styling and consistently Euro, El Falcon’s appearance was intimidating as he looked ready to rip the legs of the pack when the road turned upward.
Up Marine View Drive the pack sailed as Crusher looked on in awe at the precision of the disciplined paceline. Taking turns, some longer than others, the group climbed and made small talk. The Orca turn off is usually a ride in itself but today it was passed without word as the peloton had bigger plans for this Thursday.
Hammering Man sprinted to the front at the base of the long climb of the day and got out of the saddle and wrestled his fourteen pound steed. Dancing on the pedals he splintered the peloton. Digging deep in our suitcases of courage we managed to claw our way up the seemingly endless ascent. Hammering Man retained his KOM jersey with a surprised Crusher closing the gap at the top. Uberman had quietly sensed the testosterone festival in the making and had gone from the Shepard at the back to shadowing Crushers wheel at the top. El Falcon elected to maintain his image and composure and the Captain made journeyman’s work of the climb. The powerful engine that is McDiesel was firing on all cylinders and reached the top showing no signs of strain at the climb that has claimed the lives of many would be cyclists.
The rollers on the remainder of Marine View Drive allowed for some leap frogging as the pack shuffled and then regrouped for a wee bit of drink and some smiles.
The suffering resumed on the rollers on 140th Ave NE as Uberman set a wicked tempo and Crusher and El Falcon struggled to keep on his wheel. Crusher popped a hill or two from the top of the 600’ hill and only El Falcon could match Uberman who was riding in a 53 x 12 the entire day, just to see what it would be like to ride a track bike on the road. The Groupetto arrived and the collective body looked downhill.
The assembled body waited for a sufficient break in downhill traffic and then launched. Taking the whole lane the group registered speeds between fifty and fifty five mph on the descent. Black Mojo, ignoring the laws of physics which would have the heaviest bike (and rider) going downhill the fastest again took his place at the sharp end of the pack as the group sped downhill.
On the flats the discipline once again returned and with exemplary execution the rotating paceline motored back at between twenty-two and twenty-five mph. After passing the Marysville school which saw the FSI re-run league (as opposed to a premier, which is new, the re-run league was for more mature footballers), the group broke into an all out sprint. Crusher ignored this, as the traffic light is the great equalizer for such escapades.
After the light McDiesel took up the charge in earnest and nobody granted him any favors as he led the speeding pack back into the parking lot. As the pack cooled down a willing bystander snapped a picture. With nothing else to say I was reminded of some wisdom I gleaned from a license plate frame I saw the other day. By the way, I get all my knowledge from license plate frames and bumper stickers. The subject frame read, “Happiness is driving a 1977 Nova.” If that guy can call that happiness, who are we to complain ?
With Swiss precision, the riders rolled out the door from the FSI building. This was in sharp contrast to years past when riders would trickle out over a fifteen minute period and then scrounge for floor pumps and “oops, I forgot my helmet, just a minute” delays. In no time the elite peloton was assembled and ready to suffer.
Hammering man was astride the Black Mojo which was a spectacle to behold with its glossy carbon weave, matching carbon bars and American Classic Hubs laced to red anodized Velocity rims. The Zero Gravity brakes and Campagnolo drivetrain set off the ultralight climbing machine. The oversized seat pack must have held some secret propellant, as its bulky styling and excessive size seemed ill matched to the purpose built roadster.
I apologize, for once again, I digress.
The ride was to celebrate the departure of one Paul “McDiesel” from his current employ – thus exiting the peloton only to return for special occasions as Crusher had returned to honor his comrade. Uberman was decked out in stylish riding apparel that indicated his wonderful wife has continued to exercise her good taste in selecting and procuring his riding apparel. Captain Sunshine, though quiet, was likewise decked out like he rides fifty miles on his lunch hour every day and this was just another fast paced ride for him.
Always styling and consistently Euro, El Falcon’s appearance was intimidating as he looked ready to rip the legs of the pack when the road turned upward.
Up Marine View Drive the pack sailed as Crusher looked on in awe at the precision of the disciplined paceline. Taking turns, some longer than others, the group climbed and made small talk. The Orca turn off is usually a ride in itself but today it was passed without word as the peloton had bigger plans for this Thursday.
Hammering Man sprinted to the front at the base of the long climb of the day and got out of the saddle and wrestled his fourteen pound steed. Dancing on the pedals he splintered the peloton. Digging deep in our suitcases of courage we managed to claw our way up the seemingly endless ascent. Hammering Man retained his KOM jersey with a surprised Crusher closing the gap at the top. Uberman had quietly sensed the testosterone festival in the making and had gone from the Shepard at the back to shadowing Crushers wheel at the top. El Falcon elected to maintain his image and composure and the Captain made journeyman’s work of the climb. The powerful engine that is McDiesel was firing on all cylinders and reached the top showing no signs of strain at the climb that has claimed the lives of many would be cyclists.
The rollers on the remainder of Marine View Drive allowed for some leap frogging as the pack shuffled and then regrouped for a wee bit of drink and some smiles.
The suffering resumed on the rollers on 140th Ave NE as Uberman set a wicked tempo and Crusher and El Falcon struggled to keep on his wheel. Crusher popped a hill or two from the top of the 600’ hill and only El Falcon could match Uberman who was riding in a 53 x 12 the entire day, just to see what it would be like to ride a track bike on the road. The Groupetto arrived and the collective body looked downhill.
The assembled body waited for a sufficient break in downhill traffic and then launched. Taking the whole lane the group registered speeds between fifty and fifty five mph on the descent. Black Mojo, ignoring the laws of physics which would have the heaviest bike (and rider) going downhill the fastest again took his place at the sharp end of the pack as the group sped downhill.
On the flats the discipline once again returned and with exemplary execution the rotating paceline motored back at between twenty-two and twenty-five mph. After passing the Marysville school which saw the FSI re-run league (as opposed to a premier, which is new, the re-run league was for more mature footballers), the group broke into an all out sprint. Crusher ignored this, as the traffic light is the great equalizer for such escapades.
After the light McDiesel took up the charge in earnest and nobody granted him any favors as he led the speeding pack back into the parking lot. As the pack cooled down a willing bystander snapped a picture. With nothing else to say I was reminded of some wisdom I gleaned from a license plate frame I saw the other day. By the way, I get all my knowledge from license plate frames and bumper stickers. The subject frame read, “Happiness is driving a 1977 Nova.” If that guy can call that happiness, who are we to complain ?
25 miles, one hour 22 minutes 18.5 mph average 1,508’ of climbing.
Sprinter (Green Jersey) McDiesel
GC: (T-Shirt Jersey) Hammering Man
KOM: (Polka Dot Jersey) Uberman
Most Aggressive (Red Jersey) El Falcon
Best Young Rider (White Jersey) the Captain (maybe El Capitan ?)
Maglia Nera (Black Jersey) Crusher !!
No comments:
Post a Comment