I just got back into town from a lovely little trip out to CO. The purpose of the trip was not for riding (it was, in fact, partially for a super weird 10 year high school reunion), but I crammed my bike into my ladyfriend's Honda (na$ty) and used every possibility I could to get out and pedal.
Sadly, I had to take my other other Benz bike because it's being driven back at a later date, and I needed my yellow rig in OR for racin'
A little history: My previous life in CO was almost entirely devoted to track and field (100m, 200m, 400m, if you must know), with a liberal dollop of college-style hard drinking and an excessive amount of weight lifting, and as a result I don't actually have much in the way of bicycle connections out there. I've got some buddies who are now pro downhillers, but they're not exactly the type to jump for joy at the offering of a three hour road bike ride. So with nobody born in the same decade as me to go and tool around with, that pretty much just left my parents to ride with on my trip...
Which is awesome, because them two still know how to party on bikes.
Carter Lake view. Smog or smoke on the horizon? I couldn't tell.
The day prior, she got 2nd place in the CO State championship crit for her age group. 61 years old!
Another tiny bike! Mom is 5 foot nothing, if you take her word for it, but 4'11" is what everybody else would call her... Still fits nicely on 700c wheels though! I had and liked this same frame, although getting bottles in and out was an exercise in frustration. Fresh wheels, Ma.
Grinding it out up 4-mile canyon. No traffic, delightful road, exquisite jersey.
My old man will still be tan as hell when we're all reduced to worm food, and then his worms will be extra tan too. I hope to some day be half the tan he is. Also, he's still living the dream on downtube shifters!
Skid practice at 7000 feet. The thin air changes everything, so you've got to get your altitude skidding down pronto when traveling somewhere high.
What an excellent trip! I think I covered about 100 miles total with my pops, and a bit less than that with Ma, on account of she had a racing schedule to work around. Every year or so, when I have the occasion to suit up and go ride with my parents, I'm always surprised (and then ashamed for being surprised) by how totally fresh they both still are on their bikes.
The Tiniest Sprinter
PS: When my girlfriend and I opened the door to our hotel room, we were a bit distressed to find this hanging above the bed. I don't think I'm alone when I say that I prefer my bedroom artwork a little less angry / intimidating / judgmental.
PPS: I partook in the Boulder Bus Stop ride whilst I was there. No surprise, but Boulder boys are fast! I hoped to get a little attention for going blow for blow with those dudes, but in the end I think I only made an impression by being on a steel frame and having non-carbon wheels with a boat load of spokes. They like their fancy bikes out there, I tell you what. I wish I'd taken some pictures, because there were some real fresh race rigs out. Boulder's got its priorities straight!
PPPS: At the risk of terrible embarrassment... I want to profess my love for Kitty Pryde. True feelings gotta be known, you know? Makes me want to be a bored, skinny teen on pills, instead of a bored, skinny engineer on coffee.