Tripleshot Cycling

Last night as the slush was quickly liquefying and I was enjoying a short foray outside sans-coat and not being cold because it was ten degrees, I thought to myself, "There will be a lot of club riders looking to shake their cabin fever on the relatively bare roads in the morning." And then I took my bike outside at 5:45 to ride to work and encountered more effing ice/frost on the road. WTF??

I hope anyone who did venture out at 6am stayed safe and upright. And if so, please recount the morning's adventures so I can enjoy the ride vicariously.

Alarm woke me up at sparrow's fart (5-something)—in defiance of circadian rhythms that have completely reverted to those of a Non-Rider—and it was not without relief that I observed a malevolent, glinty rime upon my deck. And went back to bed.

The whole phoenix routine will have to wait another day or two.

Rolf, you should have ignored the grimy rime on your deck and come out to join us.
There was maybe ten or so of us at Pareto this morning. Small enough group that there was no time to get brow-beaten for not paying your dues. And certainly no one new. We picked up a few along the way, skipped Blenkinsop, and did a very nice, non-slippery ride around the waterfront. Geoff and Mandy were even there! Go figure! Steve Lund was there, too, and he wasn't even acting like the usual turdface.

It was a very magical ride, and sorely needed after all the snow-induced grumpiness that was swallowing me. This weekend looks good. In the words of that immortal poet, Frank Zappa: "Don't make a fuss, just get on the bus..."