I think I'll just ride...

Sometimes things seem to get weirded out when you work with a whole group or a committee. Simple life seems to get sort of uh, how do I say this... muddled up. They are all with good intentions but jeeze louise it's turning into a pain in the butt mole hill. Y'all know what I'm talking about so I'll leave it at that.

Now on to the better things. We got rain today and a bunch of it. Flash floods. Wind. Lightening that kicked my building out of power but I had to wait for Terri to get off so I was the last one out of the building. That wasn't a big deal because I could go through the stack on my desk that was the not so important stack. My desk is clean so when I walk in Monday I'll have a clean desk and no phone messages.

I did want to say something about the ride the other night. I was late getting there and I pulled into the parking lot where I start which is a couple miles from where the club starts. I ride to the ride from there. I park there because it loosens me up before I actually have to ride with the young guns. As I was saying, I was late and riding toward them. I knew they were out there and heading straight towards me but somewhere around several curves and out of sight. As I got closer it was like a storm coming. You know it's out there and you note the change but you must wait. The storm comes to you an all you can do is perpare for it to hit. Several other cyclist go by and more roadies coming towards me. Small groups. Then on the horizon, I see one of the coolest sights I had witnessed in a while. A perfect line of bikes smoothly moving in a beautiful paceline that would make Roll, Liggett, Sherwin and Trout speechless. It was flawless. Beautifully colored jerseys, bright colors bicycles moving toward me like a giant snake. I just coasted along and enjoyed. A few seconds later they were flying by and the speed and mass of this group sent a gust of wind my direction. It was as if I was back at the Joe Martin stage races during the crits. I hear my name in various ways.. "George!" "Geo" "Homey" "jackass!" (ok I made the last one up). It's one of those moments sort of like when you used to watch the TV show called "Cheers" and the bar was filled with people that enjoyed themselves and they knew your name. You all were friends. Sometimes you hated their guts but most of the time it was family love. The end of the line passed and I spun around and pedalled like a mad man to catch up. Remember what I said at the first of the story... the "young uns"? Pedal as I may but I don't catch up until the first regroup. That's really not that bad because I got to experience the thrill of watching the paceline for miles and miles. That my friends is a sweet ride... on the back.