S
Scott Gordo
Guest
I did a nice, rambling ride on Sunday. Dunno mileage, I'm guessing
50-60. Flat.
My parents live in Marlboro, NJ. The Metz Bicycle Museum is in
Freehold. Taking a very roundabout way, it took around 1.5 hours to
reach. As expected, it was closed: I gave a call beforehand, but it's
only open Wed and Sat's. Old safteys, highwheels, hobby horses. I'll
have to stop back before it becomes a Starbucks/McDonalds/Duane Reade.
I rode up to Rt 33 and headed East looking for an old timey Schwinn
shop that I remembered from high school (hoping that they were
clearing out NOS from the basement.) The strip mall was still there,
but the shop is now a mini H&R Block. Oh well. There was a different
bike shop down the road, though, with signage that suggested an est of
late 60's/early 70's. Closed. The window showed Treks and Giants.
Circled around to the back, found the dumpster, and pocketed a
serviceable saddle and an unpatched tube. (I know, I can't help it.)
Continued chugging across 33. Not a road that sees much bike traffic,
but not too bad. The weather was in the 40s and none too windy. I
happened upon a recycling center, also closed. Tried to find a way in
to recover the Masi's waiting to be dug up, but no go.
Took 33 through a few turnabouts, onto 34 for a bit, maybe 36 for a
bit, until I hit the water. Ahhh, Asbury Park. Undergoing serious
redevelopment. This place used to be glorious shithole, now it looks
like Red Bank with more options. I was a little concerned that the
ocean winds would be strong and cold, but the water was pretty calm
and the air's salt tang got my head buzzing. The boardwalk had been
renovated -- gone were the rides and carney attractions, in were the
boutiques, and the boards were luxuriously level, unbroken, and smooth
to ride on. If you want to see what a less high-risey Coney might
look....
From there I rode along Ocean Ave, which leads north up the coast
through some very tony towns. Chewed the fat at The Peddler for a bit
too long. Jamis, Cdale, Seven. Some guys were picking up the new Jamis
12lb bike repeatedly and laughing a little too hard about its
airiness. Very businesslike-looking ride, but pretty nice. I'll have
to get one for the Brooklyn Cobbles ride. (Maybe two.) They let me
tool around on a cruiser with what I'd guess to be 36"+ wheels.
Rivendell? You reading this?
It was getting dark and the forecast called for all kinds of rain, so
I hit the road up to Sea Bright, made a left over the bay's bridge,
and onto Rt 520. Stopped in a Dunky D near Red Bank and listened to
three high school kids, one of which sounded like he was planning a
school shooting. Made me depressed and oh so glad that I'll never have
to go back to that age. Ugh. No offense to any young'uns here, but I'd
take *****ing about the office over that he said/she said drama any
day.
When I got back on the road it was pitch black, raining hard, and I
was surrounded by Jersey drivers. Not exactly reassuring. I figured it
was going to be a 15 mile gauntlet back. I also seem to perpetually
forget that NJ doesn't have streetlights (or bike lanes, or greenways)
like NYC. I had my red blinky on, but no front light. Approaching cars
were mixed blessings in that they'd point out potholes, curbs, sewer
grates, etc, but they might, you know, kill me. I decided to leave the
heavily and speedily trafficked 520 for some less direct local roads I
remembered from the Farmlands Bicycle Tour. There wasn't any moon, but
I could see the middle striping and kept along them and away from the
chewed up sides.
So, I arrived, changed, ate everything in mom's fridge, and started a
fire with some rotted cherry that did nothing but make everything in
the house smell like bacon.
50-60. Flat.
My parents live in Marlboro, NJ. The Metz Bicycle Museum is in
Freehold. Taking a very roundabout way, it took around 1.5 hours to
reach. As expected, it was closed: I gave a call beforehand, but it's
only open Wed and Sat's. Old safteys, highwheels, hobby horses. I'll
have to stop back before it becomes a Starbucks/McDonalds/Duane Reade.
I rode up to Rt 33 and headed East looking for an old timey Schwinn
shop that I remembered from high school (hoping that they were
clearing out NOS from the basement.) The strip mall was still there,
but the shop is now a mini H&R Block. Oh well. There was a different
bike shop down the road, though, with signage that suggested an est of
late 60's/early 70's. Closed. The window showed Treks and Giants.
Circled around to the back, found the dumpster, and pocketed a
serviceable saddle and an unpatched tube. (I know, I can't help it.)
Continued chugging across 33. Not a road that sees much bike traffic,
but not too bad. The weather was in the 40s and none too windy. I
happened upon a recycling center, also closed. Tried to find a way in
to recover the Masi's waiting to be dug up, but no go.
Took 33 through a few turnabouts, onto 34 for a bit, maybe 36 for a
bit, until I hit the water. Ahhh, Asbury Park. Undergoing serious
redevelopment. This place used to be glorious shithole, now it looks
like Red Bank with more options. I was a little concerned that the
ocean winds would be strong and cold, but the water was pretty calm
and the air's salt tang got my head buzzing. The boardwalk had been
renovated -- gone were the rides and carney attractions, in were the
boutiques, and the boards were luxuriously level, unbroken, and smooth
to ride on. If you want to see what a less high-risey Coney might
look....
From there I rode along Ocean Ave, which leads north up the coast
through some very tony towns. Chewed the fat at The Peddler for a bit
too long. Jamis, Cdale, Seven. Some guys were picking up the new Jamis
12lb bike repeatedly and laughing a little too hard about its
airiness. Very businesslike-looking ride, but pretty nice. I'll have
to get one for the Brooklyn Cobbles ride. (Maybe two.) They let me
tool around on a cruiser with what I'd guess to be 36"+ wheels.
Rivendell? You reading this?
It was getting dark and the forecast called for all kinds of rain, so
I hit the road up to Sea Bright, made a left over the bay's bridge,
and onto Rt 520. Stopped in a Dunky D near Red Bank and listened to
three high school kids, one of which sounded like he was planning a
school shooting. Made me depressed and oh so glad that I'll never have
to go back to that age. Ugh. No offense to any young'uns here, but I'd
take *****ing about the office over that he said/she said drama any
day.
When I got back on the road it was pitch black, raining hard, and I
was surrounded by Jersey drivers. Not exactly reassuring. I figured it
was going to be a 15 mile gauntlet back. I also seem to perpetually
forget that NJ doesn't have streetlights (or bike lanes, or greenways)
like NYC. I had my red blinky on, but no front light. Approaching cars
were mixed blessings in that they'd point out potholes, curbs, sewer
grates, etc, but they might, you know, kill me. I decided to leave the
heavily and speedily trafficked 520 for some less direct local roads I
remembered from the Farmlands Bicycle Tour. There wasn't any moon, but
I could see the middle striping and kept along them and away from the
chewed up sides.
So, I arrived, changed, ate everything in mom's fridge, and started a
fire with some rotted cherry that did nothing but make everything in
the house smell like bacon.
