Well, I'm back in my office, where I should be wading through all the official email, but wanted to add a bit to all the other Cirque reports already posted. I had intended to do this yesterday evening, but after driving back from NC in the rain, extracting all the bikes and other things from the truck, and piling everything in the shop (why does it look like a bomb went off in there?), I decided to lie on the bed for a few minutes and scan the newspaper headlines. The rest of the world had completely disappeared for four days, so I thought I'd catch up on current events. I was startled awake a couple hours later when my wife came home from work. I guess the endorphins had finally worn off.
What a grand four days it was! Being a veteran of many Cirques, I tend to think I know what to expect, but there's always a few new twists, more new acquaintances, and another avalanche of information to digest. All the great Cirque reports give a flavor of the event, but you have to be there to really understand how special it is. In trying to describe it to someone while we were loading-out on Sunday, I said "it's something like...." and then had total brain-freeze trying to figure out what I was going to compare it to. I couldn't, so I just said "nothing else". I immediately realized how silly a quote that was, but also realized it was true. The Cirque is unique enough that it is really hard to compare it to anything. Comparing it to Velo Rendezvous is a bit redundant. However, while VR is very similar, it has a totally different vibe and feel. What both the Cirque and VR offer is affirmation that there are others out there just like us! And more of us emerge from the fog everyday. How cool is that!
Once again, any Cirque report has to offer supreme thanks to Dale Brown. While Dale, humble as always, likes to point out that it's the CR community collectively that makes the Cirque what it is, he is the catalyst that initiated the bond and the spark that kindles the flames. His enthusiasm and passion are infectious, and his award for contributions to our special affliction is wholly justified.
Thinking I was one of the earliest arrivers, I rolled into the CdO parking lot around midday on Thursday. I chatted with Dale for a few minutes, only to learn that others were already in the loft sorting and prepping bikes that had been shipped in. Chuck already had the beautiful Peter Johnson assembled, decked out with even more drilled and "massaged" components than it had sported at VR last October. Seems Peter had still been working on the project he started when he was 19, and what a work of art it is. Sensuous is the only word I can think of that even comes close to describing the reworked Campy seat post.
Off to the Battleground Inn to check in, where more geeks (a very affectionate term, I assure you) are already gathering, and an afternoon ride is quickly organized. As Brian had indicated in his pre-Cirque musings, the rides are a very special part of these events. I managed to get in four rides over three days, never riding the same bike twice, and even had yet another bike to cruise between the hotel and the shop. The advantages of having a Suburban. Every ride was pure fun, and each had it's own flavor. The rides are social, jovial, serene, intense and competitive, all at the same time. More often than not, John P, the Brooklyn Bomber, was the center of the fun. Riding his chrome Cinelli inch-pitch, no brakes track bike, decked out in the finest wool, John was usually the master of ceremonies. I have to offer special thanks to the local riders who participated, especially those who helped drag me back to the group after two mishaps. For the fixed-gear ride on Friday, I missed the rollout while fiddling with a defective pump, trying to top-up my rear tire while steadily loosing air, as the group disappeared. A local rider, also late for the start but knowing the intended route, helped pull me back to the rest of the ride. Then on Saturday, opting for the faster/longer ride on my recently assembled Ryffranck, we rolled through town as everyone stretched their legs and settled in. Once we hit open country the pace quickened. I attempted to pop into the big ring on the first fast down-hill, only to derail, look down and notice that the chain ring bolts had come adrift! Damn Stronglight crankset. I managed a fairly quick fix, but the group was long gone. One of the local ride leaders held back until I was one the road where we hammered on, him helping pull me back to the group, but only finally hooking up when they stopped to wait. Tired from the chase, I sat in until the group got frisky again when they saw the Greensboro City Limits sign. Finally off the back and missing a turn near the end, I was happy to spin slowly and chat with Dave Staub, Larry Black and a few others in the same boat while we picked our way back to the hotel. Disheartened? Hardly! I love riding with all these folks and love every part of each ride.
Thursday evening offered yet another new delight, with Karen Schuckman hosting a cook-out at her house. After copious amounts of food, many beers and much chat around the huge barbeque grill, Karen quietly disappeared only to emerged a few minutes later festooned in an outrageous and beautiful Marti Gras mask. Soon John and then Ray were wearing the mask, embracing and posing for pictures as the scene degenerated into total chaos and madness. Just as things started getting totally out of control, we all realized that Karen was leaving for Alaska in a few hours, and hadn't even started to pack yet! Sanity slowly returned and the troops were marshaled to clean up while Karen made another run to the airport to pick up yet more loonies. Thanks Karen! Hope you made it off okay.
Damn. Where did the morning go? Someone wants that project report I was supposed to finish. Better get back to work! More later in part two!
Wayne Bingham
Falls Church VA