February 14th, 2005
First Great Weekend of the Year
What a great weekend. Cheeky trail riding on Saturday with a local Rights Of Way Officer. Coffee with friends on Sunday morning, then grooming for my wife and horse while they go show-jumping Sunday afternoon.
Saturday was first singlespeed outing of the year. It was nice riding out with a mixed bunch of people and finding myself in the middle group of abilities for a change. This was fun on so many levels. Not least of which was following someone who rides as nice and light as Ben. You want a photo of someone riding you want to get Ben. He just rode harder, faster, lighter, leanier and splashier than anyone else out. Although we were blessed with photogenic weather - low winter sun and fine rain - I conspicuously failed to get my camera out, too busy trying to keep up with Ben and 360.
Turns out that Ben and I raced against each other in the past on these very same trails. We’re talking 1993 to 1995 here. Since then I’d not really been back to these trails, except for an evening ride with colleagues from work, and once with the wife when I was introducing her to singlespeeding*.
One trail in particular, an old abandoned downhill course, had always beaten my nerve. Cross track, drop into woods, hard left, steep drop with 90-degree right hander at the bottom and away into fun swoopy singletrack. I’d always bottled at the drop into the right-hander. But Ben rode it. The gauntlet was thrown.
I made the drop, I just didn’t quite make the turn. If it hadn’t been for that pesky tree which I went one side of and my wheel went the other. The dismount was graceful, I was unharmed, and I rode on. Straight away I realised that things were not as they should be. The noise as my tyre rubbed the paint off the inside of both fork legs kind of gave it away. Umpteen years of riding and my first tacoed wheel. And that’s one more piece of my Maverick, Fan, taken from me. All that remains now is the front hub and rotor.
Using a bit of Brants technique** I managed to get it straight enough to ride, though it needed a second session later. I think I would have made the turn if I’d been riding my wife’s bike, currently fitted with IRC Mud Mads. But I don’t think it would be worth the pain of being wrong about this.
Although I’ve piled the miles in already this year three hours taught me that singlespeeding is harder on your hands than other riding. My wedding ring has worn it’s 24 hour race blister into my hand from all that bar-wrenching. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
* I apologised to her on my return for dragging her round trails as a singlespeed beginner that took 3 hours to get round on Saturday.
** find loose spokes. Hit that part of wheel hard and fast against ground until taco becomes less pronounced. Repeat to fade…
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