C
Corvus Corvax
Guest
I missed all the good riding.
All the while I was in Paris in June and July, western New York was
having a hot, dry spell. After a dry winter, this meant trail
conditions unheard of in this part of the world. Meanwhile, I was
spending my time eating cheese and drinking strong Abbey ales, looking
at impressionist art and gorgeous fashionable women, and getting soft.
Naturally, I return to Buffalo just in time for the onset of torrential
rains. Sunday my wife and I carve out some free time and head south to
the Alleghenies (or, if you're an illiterate New Yorker, the
"Alleganies".) The tasty singletrack out back of Holiday Valley in
Ellicottville is bound to be a swamp, and we want to stay off that
until it's dry. The wet weather standby is Allegany [sic] State Park,
which has a nice network of well-drained doubletrack which serves as
ski trail in the winter. We probably have about a 50-50 chance of
getting caught in yet another thunderstorm, but we gear up and go
anyway.
I put some work into tuning up my hardtail this spring, and it has
really paid off. The start of the ride is a three and a half mile
continuous climb, and the drivetrain performs flawlessly. I climb in
the middle ring and adjust for the terrain by little one-click changes
on the nine-speed cassette, which responds crisply. It's not a hard
climb, maybe six or seven hundred feet vertical, and it feels good. My
wife is riding strong, and keeps passing me, falling back, passing
again.
We crest the summit and begin a descent down the ridgeline, making
detours onto doubletrack which loops off to the side, down the hill and
then back up to the ridge. My bike is a venerable '99 Fisher Paragon,
with virtually everything on the frame replaced at least once. It
sports an 80mm Marzocchi coil and oil fork on the front, and an
unforgiving rigid aluminum triangle on the back. It is a beautiful,
fast, responsive bike. I feel a sense of total bliss as I fly down the
muddy doubletrack, grunt up the climb back to the ridge, and then do it
again. A really nice bike is like a really beautiful woman. Every once
in a while, you feel a sense of total wonder, because you cannot
believe you are actually allowed to have one. Recognizing how lucky you
are makes it infinitely better.
I and my wonderful bike and my beautiful woman knock off fifteen miles
in a fluid, continuous ride, no stopping. We finish completely caked in
mud.
This morning, riding to work on the Cross Check, I blow right pass the
office and tack another twelve miles onto my seven mile commute. I may
only get to have one wife, but I can have as many bikes as I want, and
sailing along the road on the skinny-tired fixie is its own kind of
bliss. The super-simple drivetrain connects my brain and my legs
straight to the road, and every erg I put into the pedals is converted
straight into speed. I am grateful for this as I push a big gear into a
stiff Lake Erie headwind. It is nice to be home. I have been turning
down kind invitations, both professional and social. I just want to
stay here for a while, count my blessings, work hard, and ride my bike.
Screw the rest. For the next month, I am feeding my own Jones.
CC
All the while I was in Paris in June and July, western New York was
having a hot, dry spell. After a dry winter, this meant trail
conditions unheard of in this part of the world. Meanwhile, I was
spending my time eating cheese and drinking strong Abbey ales, looking
at impressionist art and gorgeous fashionable women, and getting soft.
Naturally, I return to Buffalo just in time for the onset of torrential
rains. Sunday my wife and I carve out some free time and head south to
the Alleghenies (or, if you're an illiterate New Yorker, the
"Alleganies".) The tasty singletrack out back of Holiday Valley in
Ellicottville is bound to be a swamp, and we want to stay off that
until it's dry. The wet weather standby is Allegany [sic] State Park,
which has a nice network of well-drained doubletrack which serves as
ski trail in the winter. We probably have about a 50-50 chance of
getting caught in yet another thunderstorm, but we gear up and go
anyway.
I put some work into tuning up my hardtail this spring, and it has
really paid off. The start of the ride is a three and a half mile
continuous climb, and the drivetrain performs flawlessly. I climb in
the middle ring and adjust for the terrain by little one-click changes
on the nine-speed cassette, which responds crisply. It's not a hard
climb, maybe six or seven hundred feet vertical, and it feels good. My
wife is riding strong, and keeps passing me, falling back, passing
again.
We crest the summit and begin a descent down the ridgeline, making
detours onto doubletrack which loops off to the side, down the hill and
then back up to the ridge. My bike is a venerable '99 Fisher Paragon,
with virtually everything on the frame replaced at least once. It
sports an 80mm Marzocchi coil and oil fork on the front, and an
unforgiving rigid aluminum triangle on the back. It is a beautiful,
fast, responsive bike. I feel a sense of total bliss as I fly down the
muddy doubletrack, grunt up the climb back to the ridge, and then do it
again. A really nice bike is like a really beautiful woman. Every once
in a while, you feel a sense of total wonder, because you cannot
believe you are actually allowed to have one. Recognizing how lucky you
are makes it infinitely better.
I and my wonderful bike and my beautiful woman knock off fifteen miles
in a fluid, continuous ride, no stopping. We finish completely caked in
mud.
This morning, riding to work on the Cross Check, I blow right pass the
office and tack another twelve miles onto my seven mile commute. I may
only get to have one wife, but I can have as many bikes as I want, and
sailing along the road on the skinny-tired fixie is its own kind of
bliss. The super-simple drivetrain connects my brain and my legs
straight to the road, and every erg I put into the pedals is converted
straight into speed. I am grateful for this as I push a big gear into a
stiff Lake Erie headwind. It is nice to be home. I have been turning
down kind invitations, both professional and social. I just want to
stay here for a while, count my blessings, work hard, and ride my bike.
Screw the rest. For the next month, I am feeding my own Jones.
CC
