Tuesday, January 23

Dance of the Ding Dongs

Was a snowflake weekend.  None other like it before and probably never gonna happen again.

It's 7:30PM on Friday, and I'm standing in the aisle of Total Wine trying to figure out how to maximize my $10 off $40 coupon.  My only solid plan for the weekend was to attend Zac's going away party on Saturday.

My phone rings.  It's Kanglangamangus.  Despite whether or not I thought any trails were going to be worth a shit this weekend, he's convinced otherwise.  He's got a crew headed to Uwharrie, the last bastion of hope for the Charlottean trying to get a dirt fix when the rest of NC has gone to shit.

Dammit.  In.

On the way there, snow all over the place.  I'm convinced Bill Nye and I are going to go back home and start Zac's party early.

We all kit up in sub-freezing temps and have a ride, that while being a bit arduous, was totally worth it. 

Our impact on the trail was slight, mud on the bikes just a light spray, and I rode beyond my caloric intake.  Buenos.

Mexican food, home, wash bike...

Yeth.  First real wash of the JaBronson.  Apparently, this drive train is not just an "add lube as necessary" arrangement.   It was rewarding to see a clean cassette tho.

The Weevil Burrosack worked out quite well, despite my attempts to sabotage the experience.

I left out on a upper 20s ride that ended in the upper 40s, loaded down with tools, a camera, and a beer.  I needed to shed layers pretty quick like, which meant I had to unload the beer kinda early to make room for my jacket... because I was too stupid to have a Super 8 strap on my top tube.  Doh.

Anyways, pretty much fully loaded down.  Didn't shift around.  Didn't loosen up.  At times, I'd have to remind myself that I was wearing it.  That's a good sign.  No buyer's remorse here.

Clean myself, back out the door to Zac's party at Birdsong...

Dog on the table because she short, I guess?

The party went on into the night, and at some point I ghosted with Bill Nye.  I think NoDa is one hundred miles from my new house.

The next morning, wake up, breakfast, frozen burrito brunch an hour later, out the door for short track spectating...

Which somehow once again I found myself making "trail improvements" with bare hands and caveman tools.  The A-line climb was just too muddy and needed some garvel and slight modifications.  By the time the experts were racing, most of them were taking the A-line, as experts aught to do.

Mebbe there was some slight FOMO from not racing.


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