Madam Pele had swathed O’ahu in a thick blanket of itchy vog. Throats scratched, heads hurt, and sinuses throbbed. The days were gray, albeit with some interesting light patterns as the vog diffused the sunlight. Occasionally, as the sun reached out for the horizon, it looked like an flaming orange. Sadly, it would quickly hide behind the impenetrable vog.
Despite the dire warnings of the well gelled talking hair on the evening news, the call went out for a ride on Friday night.
Slightly different group this time, Foes was off island, looking at the cool cars. Home Grown was in, as was Svelte Turner and Mr. Moment and Mrs. Ventana. Rounding out the group was the Yeti, able to be out and play for the evening. The other Mr. Moment was at home, listening to the anal rendition of Elton John’s ‘Rocket Man’. Bad news indeed.
Traffic was non-existent on the way out, we all met at the usual fountain a little earlier then planned. Yeti noticed one of Uncle Sam’s Misguided flying Children checking us out over his aviator shades as he collected the mail.
Road rides are a necessary evil and we motored along till we jumped into the trail. Svelte Turner powered away on the initial dirt climb, leaving the rest of the group pushing up the same hill. We were early and still had daylight to burn. Pedal pedal pedal. At one point we found our selves riding past the ‘broken Sweet Wings bolt’ hill climb/tree. This might have to be renamed the ‘ripped up Craftsman tool bag’ or the ‘tactically blinky flash light strobe spot’. I suspect Home Grown has some pictures that he’ll post…
We noticed the humidity, every time we stopped, glassed fogged and jerseys were flapped. Yeti was feeling smug because he was rocking the short sleeve Fox and that helped with the heat. Mr. Moment figured that since there was no breeze, he’d create one by running around, waving his arms. Svelte Turner decided to strategically rip holes in his jersey to let in the airflow.
That sinuous down hill single track is always a good time (it always reminds Yeti of the flexy time he rode it with a SID and radial spoked wheel. God bless technology). Once everyone finished, road pressure tires were readjusted to a more practical dirt pressure.
There were the usual silly antics, like Yeti being a camera whore, but wheeling INTO the dirt embankment instead of down the trail. Svelte Turner and Mr. Moment were doing something phallic with sticks, Home Grown was humping a pack the size of a not so small toddler (I know these things!) and Mrs. Ventana was putting up with it all.
Riding fast on the main road in the Ditch area after the Gov’t Road climb and twisty descent. Svelte Turner skidded in front of Mrs. Ventana. Wrong thing to do Mr. Svelte. Yeti watched her raise her derrière a little above her seat, flick her gravity dropper lever and her seat popped up to full leg extension. She was about to open a can of “Momma Bear Whoop Ass” on the boy. Like a fighter, she hunched down and brought her elbows out and upped the RPMs. Svelte Turner didn’t know he had an orange missile on his ass and just cackled and kept up the fast pace.
No one had a computer on the ride, so we were unable to track time/distance or average. We gauged that using lungs and legs. Have to say, as evidenced by the silly conversation and tired faces around Kailua Taco Bell, it was a good ride.
That was painful to post! 🙂
Good Job!