Racing is a wonderful thing. Years ago, I would enjoy riding the CBX up to Willow Springs, hang out in the pits for the superbike racing, then a few laps on the track in the afternoon before going home.
Trying my hand at the course, with the six-cylinder pulling through the corners, lingering spectators would cheer, thinking that a few fans had sneaked onto the track. Making a good lap time required a lot of nerve and a pocketful of…marbles. There was nothing more amusing than the ride home, with the California Highway Patrol manning battle stations at the overpasses, watching the squids try their hand at highway racing.
I am reminded of those days as I suit up to enjoy a sunny day on the bicycle. I twisted another spoke last week in a sprint, the all too familiar twiiing of a snapping Wheelsmith. Man, I wish I had stuck with DT Swiss, I’ve had better luck with them. Perhaps I’ll find some before building a new front hoop. Glad to find my last remaining spare for the left side.
The second stage of the Tour De France just concluded, so it’s time to beat myself up for a while, and enjoy the smoky air today. I smell the familiar odor of a wildfire to the west. Yesterday afternoon, the Delta had a brown haze, and the sky was that familiar golden hue. I miss hopping from the Huey, such great times. Perhaps if I ride West, I can catch a crew doing mopup. Once a Brush Monkey, always a Brush Monkey- but I can’t carry the Pulaski on the bike.
And the Sansa of choice? Time to catch up on the BBC podcasts, let’s take the Clip+ today.
Having Monday off is great, isn’t it?