Mark, if I were telling the story I would have never told that I wrecked by body (since my bike wasn't actually hurt) in my own driveway. What kind of dork would do that? The real story would have lots more drama and suspense.
Second ride of the year and the anticipation of riding in 70 degree weather was exhilarating. It was Monday, January 2, and we were both off work. First we were going to start at 9:30am but the weather was still pretty wet and unstable. Finally we decided that we would meet on the road sometime between 11:30 and noon. With great anticipation I readied my trusty bike, mounted a couple water bottles and off I went towards northern Woodford County as I had done thousands of times before. I was to connect up with Mark about 5 miles into the ride. And so I did, but not until after I had laid my bike down, for the very first time in over 6 years of riding, in pay for one of the greatest riding experience ever.
Here is the way I remember this happening. And since I was closest to the action and had a first hand account I would believe ….. Well you just have to decide that on your own. The road was wet from a big thunderstorm that had moved through the area earlier that morning, just before daylight. I was running late so I was hammering hard towards Mark and my meeting point. All of a sudden a cyclist pulled beside me with, what looked to be, a brand new bike. I didn’t see him coming all dressed in his team kit. He must have really been moving in order to catch me on that piece of road. I knew ever bump and every turn and no one had ever passed me there. It took just one brief glance at the bike and rider and I knew this situation would turn into a challenge. You know the bike. The kind that is all decked out with top of the line components, low spoke aero wheels, a zippy color all wrapped around a sleek carbon frame. And the rider looked to be straight off the Tour with calves the size of footballs. He passed me immediately before I could react. Then it happened. He turned and gave me “the look”. I was furious and determined to meet the challenge. My legs came alive and for just a moment I felt 20 years younger and I could just hear Phil Liget calling the play by play through every turn. In less than a mile I was in control. The rider looked spent. Just before the rail road crossing I overcame his mighty pace and, at that point, couldn’t help myself. I looked back. I had to. I don’t think any rider could have resisted. Wet rails have a way to just reach up and grab a cyclist. I was looking back and never saw it coming. I went down sliding along the slick pavement thinking I might never stop. After coming to a halt I quickly looked around hoping, somehow, my challenger didn’t see the embarrassment on my face. He was no where in sight. He had evidently negotiated over the track and cleared the next hill while I was donating some rear end to the county road cause. Or was this the famed ghost rider we all dream about? I sat there for a minute before making sure the bike was ok and realizing no one else had seen me either. So I am back on the bike with little or no harm done.
I was too embarrassed to tell Mark about the cyclist and how this all played out so I just let him believe I laid my bike down, for the very first time, at the end of my driveway. No one will ever believe me if I tell the truth but I will always have that memory of “looking back”.
Phil
Yeah, you and Lance :)
Posted by: Lance | January 07, 2006 at 02:15 AM