Defeated By Single Speeds
There are few things in this world quite as humbling as being passed on a climb. So much more so when the ones passing you are on fully rigid singlespeeds.
I've never fully understood the singlespeed impulse. I have set out to build a singlespeed before. But as with most of my "I'm gonna build one up" projects, the frame ends up hanging in the rafters without any parts on it. Then as I'm chugging up a particularly painful climb, I often think "Why, in the name of Zeus's butthole, would anybody want to do this without the benefit of multiple gears." I get simplicity. I get lightweight. But honestly, who among us has never been trudging up a steep climb and kept looking down to see if there wasn't one more gear you could grab.
Last night we rode South Fork counterclockwise in the dark. It was a "Stars of UMB" event, with Oilcan, Cobes, TacoTim, and newcomer Noobyu along with Retro Bill and I. After an already long day, I was slightly less than enthusiastic when I pulled up to the trailhead. Without any thermometer, I would gauge the summit at a frosty 45 degrees. It was colder than a stepmother's heart. I kept a t-shirt on over my jersey and pulled on some arm and legwarmers. And we dropped down the two miles Cascade Springs road. I was running my crappiest light on my helmet which was a mistake in hindsight.
Cobes had some kind of oxyacetylene/plasma job on his head and hadn't quite perfected the nuances of looking just below the face of the person your talking to. Which resulted in a searing headache for me. I officially bestow the Light and Motion Arc as the brightest light that has ever shown up for one of our night rides.
Then came the climb up South Fork. I'm cruising along, minding my own business. When the bobbing solar spot behind me gets so close I can hear his lycra. Vwip,vwip,vwip.
Now anytime you hear me say, "Just let me know if you need to get by." There are two possible, acceptable reactions. Say, "Now" and pull around. Or sit up and fall back. My delicate ego can't handle somebody right on my rear wheel, and like dog forced to race, I feel compelled to try to go faster. This is how Riley usually makes me puke. Eventually, Cobes did pull past, followed shortly thereafter by Oilcan. Both on singlespeeds. Then Retro Bill. Then I uhhhh stopped to check my bike, and soon I was at the back of the pack. With minor variations, this was the way we rode up to the four-way.
At this point Retro Bill was looking for any takers to drop down Tibble and then climb back up Mud Springs back to the Ridge. Like riding a single speed, I'm not sure why anybody would voluntarily want to ride up Mud Springs. But Nate, aka Noobyu, jumped like an excited puppy and they both disappeared into the night. Leaving four of us to pick our way back across the ridge and eventually back to the truck.
It did my heart good to hear Cobes complain about the disproportionate amount of climbing to descending. Even though he did it after kicking my trash all the way up the mountain. On a singlespeed. Noticeably absent was any complaining from Tim who had expressed concern about being able to keep up prior to the ride. He just quietly ground away like a good soldier.
At the trailhead, we shot the shit for a good half hour or so. And with no sign of Retro Bill or Nate. I felt like I should be concerned. Normally, I try to make sure everybody makes it back. But since they took an alternate route, of their own volition, and I was freezing. I left them to the bears.
Bill or Nate, if your still alive let me know.
No pictures of this ride. After all the crashes my camera has survived, it was finally destroyed after being dropped on the concrete while taking pictures of a frame I was posting for sale online.
I've never fully understood the singlespeed impulse. I have set out to build a singlespeed before. But as with most of my "I'm gonna build one up" projects, the frame ends up hanging in the rafters without any parts on it. Then as I'm chugging up a particularly painful climb, I often think "Why, in the name of Zeus's butthole, would anybody want to do this without the benefit of multiple gears." I get simplicity. I get lightweight. But honestly, who among us has never been trudging up a steep climb and kept looking down to see if there wasn't one more gear you could grab.
Last night we rode South Fork counterclockwise in the dark. It was a "Stars of UMB" event, with Oilcan, Cobes, TacoTim, and newcomer Noobyu along with Retro Bill and I. After an already long day, I was slightly less than enthusiastic when I pulled up to the trailhead. Without any thermometer, I would gauge the summit at a frosty 45 degrees. It was colder than a stepmother's heart. I kept a t-shirt on over my jersey and pulled on some arm and legwarmers. And we dropped down the two miles Cascade Springs road. I was running my crappiest light on my helmet which was a mistake in hindsight.
Cobes had some kind of oxyacetylene/plasma job on his head and hadn't quite perfected the nuances of looking just below the face of the person your talking to. Which resulted in a searing headache for me. I officially bestow the Light and Motion Arc as the brightest light that has ever shown up for one of our night rides.
Then came the climb up South Fork. I'm cruising along, minding my own business. When the bobbing solar spot behind me gets so close I can hear his lycra. Vwip,vwip,vwip.
Now anytime you hear me say, "Just let me know if you need to get by." There are two possible, acceptable reactions. Say, "Now" and pull around. Or sit up and fall back. My delicate ego can't handle somebody right on my rear wheel, and like dog forced to race, I feel compelled to try to go faster. This is how Riley usually makes me puke. Eventually, Cobes did pull past, followed shortly thereafter by Oilcan. Both on singlespeeds. Then Retro Bill. Then I uhhhh stopped to check my bike, and soon I was at the back of the pack. With minor variations, this was the way we rode up to the four-way.
At this point Retro Bill was looking for any takers to drop down Tibble and then climb back up Mud Springs back to the Ridge. Like riding a single speed, I'm not sure why anybody would voluntarily want to ride up Mud Springs. But Nate, aka Noobyu, jumped like an excited puppy and they both disappeared into the night. Leaving four of us to pick our way back across the ridge and eventually back to the truck.
It did my heart good to hear Cobes complain about the disproportionate amount of climbing to descending. Even though he did it after kicking my trash all the way up the mountain. On a singlespeed. Noticeably absent was any complaining from Tim who had expressed concern about being able to keep up prior to the ride. He just quietly ground away like a good soldier.
At the trailhead, we shot the shit for a good half hour or so. And with no sign of Retro Bill or Nate. I felt like I should be concerned. Normally, I try to make sure everybody makes it back. But since they took an alternate route, of their own volition, and I was freezing. I left them to the bears.
Bill or Nate, if your still alive let me know.
No pictures of this ride. After all the crashes my camera has survived, it was finally destroyed after being dropped on the concrete while taking pictures of a frame I was posting for sale online.
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