Distance: 85 miles
Average Speed: 19.9 mph
Terrain: 800 feet, but a hard 800 feet. Somehow, unfriendly winds seem to make the hills higher and steeper. I swear it’s not in my head. Little else is.
Winds: Seemingly swirling at moderate speed. On average neutral, I suppose.
A note on the Dunkirk Clarion Hotel: the place is rocking. The place is rocking in a really low rent kind of way. It appears to be the hub of social life in Dunkirk. We had a prom, graduation parties, and a raucous seafood buffet happening. Lots of drunks. Northern drunks are different than southern drunks somehow—all of the noise, none of the menace.
Today was pretty easy. It was two chilly club rides with a museum visit and lunch tucked in the middle.
Orchard Park, south of Buffalo, hosts a museum of the history of the bicycle. Pretty neat. It was similar to the museum in Kansas in that the gentleman that runs it may be the best artifact. He knows everything about his subject and possesses a wit whose flashier aspects he works to contain. You can see him working not to talk over everybody’s head or hurt anybody’s feelings with his barbs. The picture of the bike with a gun on it is from that place. What you’re supposed to do with it, I have no earthly. I’m envisioning lycra shorts with ammo pockets.
I had company today, which was nice. Sam has a nice burst of speed and wanted to have a go, which kept the average high and kept me warm in temperatures that started in the low 40s and never topped the low 50s.
Pulling out of Orchard Park I lost my temper with a chronically sketchy pace line rider who was in front and putting the rest of us at risk in traffic. I gave him a mouthful when we got to the edge of town and I finally had a chance to get past him him. Not good. Patience is key. Temper doesn’t work. It’s not like I’m going to change the way he rides. It’s judgment more than experience that he lacks. I wouldn’t have said anything, but I was feeling trapped with his clumsiness because of construction and traffic. It won’t happen again. I’ll just keep him away from me.
More importantly, it seemed symptomatic of a mode of thought and behavior from which I want to get away. Impatience, fluster, peacelessness. I’m kicking myself now for getting knocked off my rhythm by something of no real significance. He’s not even a bad guy, just a bit simple and impermeable.
Anyway, tomorrow’s another day, too hard for that kind of silliness. I’m beginning to look forward to driving, of all things.
Average Speed: 19.9 mph
Terrain: 800 feet, but a hard 800 feet. Somehow, unfriendly winds seem to make the hills higher and steeper. I swear it’s not in my head. Little else is.
Winds: Seemingly swirling at moderate speed. On average neutral, I suppose.
A note on the Dunkirk Clarion Hotel: the place is rocking. The place is rocking in a really low rent kind of way. It appears to be the hub of social life in Dunkirk. We had a prom, graduation parties, and a raucous seafood buffet happening. Lots of drunks. Northern drunks are different than southern drunks somehow—all of the noise, none of the menace.
Today was pretty easy. It was two chilly club rides with a museum visit and lunch tucked in the middle.
Orchard Park, south of Buffalo, hosts a museum of the history of the bicycle. Pretty neat. It was similar to the museum in Kansas in that the gentleman that runs it may be the best artifact. He knows everything about his subject and possesses a wit whose flashier aspects he works to contain. You can see him working not to talk over everybody’s head or hurt anybody’s feelings with his barbs. The picture of the bike with a gun on it is from that place. What you’re supposed to do with it, I have no earthly. I’m envisioning lycra shorts with ammo pockets.
I had company today, which was nice. Sam has a nice burst of speed and wanted to have a go, which kept the average high and kept me warm in temperatures that started in the low 40s and never topped the low 50s.
Pulling out of Orchard Park I lost my temper with a chronically sketchy pace line rider who was in front and putting the rest of us at risk in traffic. I gave him a mouthful when we got to the edge of town and I finally had a chance to get past him him. Not good. Patience is key. Temper doesn’t work. It’s not like I’m going to change the way he rides. It’s judgment more than experience that he lacks. I wouldn’t have said anything, but I was feeling trapped with his clumsiness because of construction and traffic. It won’t happen again. I’ll just keep him away from me.
More importantly, it seemed symptomatic of a mode of thought and behavior from which I want to get away. Impatience, fluster, peacelessness. I’m kicking myself now for getting knocked off my rhythm by something of no real significance. He’s not even a bad guy, just a bit simple and impermeable.
Anyway, tomorrow’s another day, too hard for that kind of silliness. I’m beginning to look forward to driving, of all things.
Dang. New York already.
ReplyDeleteYou are going through some very interesting places ... at a very interesting time. I looked up Batavia on the net and it was quite representative of the rest of middle America that you must have ridden through. Lost jobs, an already fragile economy taking a further body blow with this recession.
ReplyDeleteWhat are some of the human stories you come in touch with? With 5-6 hours of riding everyday (I am guessing), it should leave you some time to interact with the locals, n'est ce pas?
Ah, patience. Which side of the family would you not be getting that from. I can think of 2 at least. Strive to be perfect just like me. If you have a chance, I posted a comment on Saturday's ride that somehow didn't make it, so I did it again. You could probably see it today. Stay focused on Sexybike and tell her that another noble lady won the Preakness. Ladies rock. So do you.
ReplyDeleteMom
Wowo ! so close! to home! (I am overusing the exclamation point but it is warranted!). Remember my friend Maria M - she is from Batavia. If I had known I would have put in a good word with her mom who is also an excellent cook - when you coming home? Take Care - Love all of us!
ReplyDeleteKardians. Back Friday. Why? Did you want to volunteer to pick me up from the airport?
ReplyDeleteHeya, krish. Yeah, I know I'm kind of thin on human stories. Sometimes the places speak the people, I guess. But that sounds like a copout. In reality I think there are two things going on:
ReplyDelete1. The pace of this particular ride makes it much more about the ride than about the people or even in many instances the places. Having tackled this physical challenge, I would still like to go back and do some long distance touring (even cross country again) at a more leisurely pace to absorb more.
2. The fact that we're riding cross country kind of blocks out the sun conversationally. Once you tell people that, it's hard to move them on to other subjects.
I hope all is well with you. I've got a book recommendation for you:
Patrick Neate-"City of Tiny Lights". Punchy anglo-Sam Spade language and a wealth of cricket references.