I posted this ride late Friday, after another disorganized week (The Excellent Wife [TEW] was out of town for a few days, and I was living a life of retired-bachelor dissipation in her absence). Despite that, I got twelve other registrants, some of whom planned to meet along the route (one of those was John W, who had warned me about the flooded canal yesterday).
With warmer weather predicted than recently, I decided to revert to several-layers-under-a-long-sleeve-jersey. My warmest seems to be this Briistol-Myers long-sleeve jersey in white and what I initially thought was pink in the dim light in which I was dressing, so I tied a pink bandanna around my left forearm as a handkerchief.
We left after a variation on my usual pre-ride speech (PFW ride-leader-meeting attendees: yes, I really do it before every ride), and headed up toward Blackwells Mills/Six Mile Run, where there was a porta-potty (evidently, there had been a dog walker around the back of the school, so the usual grass was not available to be watered).
By the time we got up to Amsterdam Drive, a couple of the riders let the downhill tailwind run away with 'em or something, and they missed a turn. I shouted after, but they continued, Well, if you're off the front, you're on your own, so I proceeded.
Several miles later, someone spotted them behind, and we waited. There was a remark made suggesting a violation of my no-drop policy, but I insist that the policy applies to those in back; club rules and my description make it clear that the policy does not apply to those in front.
Riders were better-behaved as we came down East Mountain, and rode towards Harlingen. One of the riders who had gone off the front stated he was tired; we discussed a possible shorter route for him to take back. I offered an escort; he declined (and made it back; I have since verified with the rider).
The rest of use went to Thomas Sweet.
Bad news at Thomas Sweet: they are moving to a new (nearby) location... but they may be stopping the coffee-and-pastry format to concentrate on ice cream and chocolates. I may need to search for a new rest stop.
While there, Roger M and Stacy P remarked on a certain feminine je ne sais quoi in both my outfit (so much pink and lavender!) and my gait. I laughed. My homophobe father would have turned in his grave to hear such a thing, if there were enough of him left to turn (we had him cremated, so even if his ashes are disturbed, it's unlikely anyone would notice).
Along the route, David G and I were talking about the ravages of time, and he said he was "gracefully embracing the frailties of aging", and I thought that was too great of a phrase not to be commemorated. Thanks, Dave.
John W had turned off the ride by the time we got to the Griggstown Causeway, but he would have had an "I told you so" moment:
It was closed, but dry. I felt like I was channelling Tom H. Another notch on my ride-leader top tube, or something.
Ride page. Once again, right in the middle of the PFW C+ range.
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