Wow. A Chamber of Commerce day to ride in Austin Texas. Great group again this morning, proving that not all of us have fallen prey to the commercialization of Valentine’s Day. And that we have a fairly high number of heathens in the club. Whatever the motivation, the ride started with AT, me, Panozzo, Stanton, Wulf and Don Bergman. This is the last time Don’s name will be last in a ride (or a ride discussion).
Today’s Ride Theme: Cormac McCarthy’s Collected Works, or “Mein Kampf”.
Chapter One: All the Pretty Horses
AT brought doom upon himself this morning, calling for a break from the routine. “No dam loop-grind boys, let’s get out and do something different! Let’s challenge ourselves!” With that inspiration, we headed out south on 360 coasting our respective mechanical steeds all the way to Mopac. I love that stretch. Don (henceforth dubbed “Mein Fuhrer” for reasons that will become apparent) was sporting his new Felt TT bike, and he was aero incarnate. A human/mechanical blade on wheels. Stanton was rocking his sweet Cervelo, Panozz and Wulf on their trusty Treks, AT with his Specialized, and me with the Prince of Rides.
The fun began on SW Pkwy, with Mein Fuhrer deciding to breakaway up to Travis Cook Rd. Panozzo jumped on his wheel. The rest of us just watched. Don dropped Mike on the climb up SW Pkwy. This was Don’s “Munich Putsch”. He was now in control.
Chapter Two: No Country For Old Men
Once reunited with the group, Don started pacing a tempo from Travis Cook up to 290. Collectively, we spoke about 5 words in that timeframe, everyone clinging to the wheel in front of them. Then Don turns around and casually says,
“Is this pace ok?”
Translation: “Macht Schnell! Vee must Ride Fasta!!”
“Javold Mein Furher! I Vill ride fasta!”
Das Fuhrer had arrived.
At 290, the Wulf punched the eject button, fleeing to Poland, while we made the turn onto Fitzhugh. It sucked to be an Old Guy on this stretch. Trust me.
Chapter Three: The Road
While Fitzhugh did not present an appropriate setting for nuclear holocaust, the effect of our pace created some metabolic apocalypse in the group. AT dropped back, and Stanton and I were gritting our teeth to (almost) keep up with Panozz and MF (by the way, I think AT was calling Don “MF” as well, but it wasn’t Mein Fuhrer…).
Some controversy ensued on our return to Circle Dr, as Panozz and AT got left behind, while they reenacted a scene from Scooby Doo in the UHaul parking Lot. We inadvertently left them, causing more physiological strain on Shaggy and Scooby as they pushed to catch back up. I believe my new moniker (as dubbed by Panozz) is D!@kh#@d.
OFFICIAL DECLARATION: We, the peloton continue to rue the mishap at UHaul and the resultant stress on Mauricio and Rip. Please accept our ever-tumescent apologies.
The final scene of the our story comes on the climb up Barton Creek hill. It was as steep as ever. There was bitter sadness, followed by redemption and an experience that mimicked death. Unlike any McCarthy story, we all made it back alive.
SUMMARY:
Freakin’ great ride! Fast, painful and glorious. Anyone interested in a Tuesday ride?
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