Before the rain . . .

Do they think I am going to argue with a logging truck?

I think not!

Nothing like skinny tires (or tyres if you are in the UK) on ice.  Kinda fun . . .

The long, straight road, from the other side:

The crest of a 45mph gravel downhill in the summer.  I always wondered what it would be like in the winter, covered with ice.

Not exactly possible to take a photo while eating a power bar going downhill on ice.  You'll just have to imagine how much fun it was.  Everyone should give it a go.

Sign sign everywhere a sign

Do this Don't do that

Can't you read the sign

Tuesday and Wednesday were great days on the bike

6, but not 7

I learned today that although I can ride the rollers for six seconds with my eyes closed while listening to "Aqualung," I can not for seven seconds without sliding not so gently off the right side.  It is not clear what the outcome would be if listening to "Killing me Softly With His Song."

Since this is a post about having ones eyes closed, I think I am entitled to use a photo of Sophia Loren . . .


Perhaps if I keep my mind on business, I won't fall off?"

Reduction

While my former riding companions have been training feverishly for

  TUSCOBIA and other epic events

 the Ghost bike and I have been reduced to

riding the rollers 

Not as famous as MARK

OK, so maybe we are not as famous as MARK
We still had a great time on Sunday.

O2 and I managed to get in six hours of real "wheels goin' round and round" time.  Only fell once, seems like quite an accomplishment on icy roads.
Billy gets the nod for "best disguised rider."
Who would have thought this masked
man is a red head?
oh yeah:
Ride Your Bike

I thought I was alone

on Thanksgiving . . .
It was a spectacular morning.

Up and over Hawk Ridge, wondering

why no one else was out and about.

Up Maxwell to the "fruit roads," when . . suddenly . . . fresh Pugsley tracks . . It could be one of many.  Lost the tracks back on Maxwell.  Up to Strand, over to the Lester River Rd, to Beyer, Evan and Wahl. On Lakewood Jct, the mysterious tracks once again . . .

Fast forward 24 hours . . . still riding alone, 15 miles from the warmth and safety and security of home, I stopped to snap this photo.  I noticed a few loose spokes.  

                    

Loose spokes and puncture, nothing like a little cold fingered bike repair in the woods.

Fast forward another 24 hours.

Does anyone know where this is?

It's Hwy 61, never hear of Arthur Rohweder before.  Neither had I.

My final misadventure of the four day Thanksgiving weekend: I guess the
road to Brighton Beach was just a bit more ice than I anticipated!  Slid about 15 feet on glaze ice that was so slick and clean I did not even get my jacket dirty.

a Very Special Thanks . . .

I'd like to extend a Very Special Thanks to the driver of the silver SUV, who at 2:15 this afternoon while East bound on the North Shore Scenic Drive chose to place his right rear wheel in just the proper position and accelerate at just the right second to send enough salt laden slush onto me to nearly knock me off the road.  I'd also like to thank him for completely covering my glasses in said slush, for saturating my clothing and for filling my mouth full of especially tasty salty snow (yum).  In his defense it should be noted there were no other cars anywhere to be seen and I was as far to the right as I could safely be.  Again, a Very Special Thank You.
I had to remind myself of this:
Confessions of a reformed car chaser
(Thanks Almanzo)

Other than that . . . Dave and I had a great ride!

I was a bit surprised that nearly the entire road was still snow covered.  Perfect fun on ice!

I think there may be just a bit of bike maintenance in my immediate future.

Already can't wait until tomorrow!

Flair for the dramatic

Due to the unusual recent weather, and the lack of compatriots willing to ride in the rain, wind, ice, cold and snow  . . . I have been reduced to . . . (audible gasp) . . . running . .  with our dog Hazel.

Keeping with my usual flair for the dramatic . . . 

Thank heavens for those titanium bones; enough said . . . 

Maybe tomorrow will be back on the bike