Listmembers,
Sorry for the delay. Got busy yesterday, then sidetracked, then tired.
For me, the ride was the best part of the event on Sunday. I have a different way of looking at my riding these days. I have a minimum amount of time to sit on my bike, so when I do have the chance, I usually try to get the most out of it. My monthly mileage varies between 25 and 40 miles as a rule. Sure, during Velo Rendezvous last year I actually put in a buck and a quarter over the week. I even survived! There are two divisions, so to speak when we get together for our typical vintage rides. Those who ride regularly (and Chuck who rides every day, has for the past 25 years, and puts in a minium of 50 per day) and others who aren't as lucky or, as in my case dedicated, to put in that much time. I ride strictly for the grins and to be with my special friends. The "other half" are more like me. So I approach it this way. I gauge my "success" on any given ride by how long I can hang with the faster and more fit riders. Since almost all of my rides in the past 3 years have been on classic vintage bikes, I had forgotten what it was like to hop on my tiny 650c wheel machine that makes those little clicky noises when I shift. As we were getting ready to head down the road from Jays' house, I sort of rolled around and kind of got comfortable on my "bike of the day". I noticed immediately that the bike was MUCH more ready to mix it up than I was. I seriously doubt that riding at one month intervals for 25 miles can cause any improvement in my conditioning, but the bike made me feel more fit. I also suspect that riding without tights, which is always better for the feel if cycling for me, made me think I might go faster or hang on longer. So this is special surprise number two for me at this gathering, I felt better, all in my mind, for sure.
We started out the usual way, easy and intact as a group of 16 on the road. As we head south towards Newport Beach (and the possibility of some thong bathing suits) we keep a casual but brisk enough pace. I'm sure everyone was comfortable, as was I as we rode through the totally flat (oh goodie) Pacific Coast Highway. The sun was warm, I felt no wind, the traffic was light, and all was well with the world. We made our way to our southern most point of Corona del Mar in good time almost without incident. There was a place where we have to make a right turn off the coast hwy. and onto Bayshore Dr. which exposes to many affluent homes and the beautiful Newport Bay. Chuck and I were first over the bridge just before the turn (both of us just happening to be wearing our St. Raphael jerseys) as suddenly Jan appeared from behind and shot past just befor the corner where a car was sitting wainting to rutn right also. I think this Bozo was either on his cell phone or maybe he was picking his nose; but he sat there after the light had turned green and then suddenly began his turn, very slowly and starting to oversteer into Jan as she stuffed her bike between the curb, Chuck, and the Bozo. She delivered one of her trademark attention getting sentences and the driver jerked the wheel HARD left as we made the corner. Not a really close call, but the driver was clearly not paying attention to anything except for his phone to his ear, his finger to his nose, or BOTH! Aside from that we made it easily to our location for the photo op at Little Corona Beach where we took a break for about 10 minutes. I hope Mike Schmidt enjoyed the view; it's one of the nicest areas along the So. Cal coastline. The day was glorious, the company was first class, and we were working up an appitite to boot.
On the return trip we did the normal ferry crossing from Balboa Island to the Balboa pennsula. As we all boarded the ferry and got seated, the first auto (of the 3 car capacity) drove on and an older guy with a obviously younger woman seated beside him in some high zoot Ferreri pulled forward, stopping with the driver sitting next to me. Of course, the car buffs in the group started in on the usual funning. Peter Johnson LOVES to deliver the line "Is that a Pantera?" to Ferrari drivers, and as we all cracked up big time as Peter laid it on him. I got to see his reaction first hand and I could hear him muttering under his breath to the chick; but I couldn't hear exactly what he said. We all continued to crack up and finally the driver, who was starting to show signs of agitation, looked my way. I told him we were just having a little fun. He asked me if I knew what it really was. I responded with "It's a Ferrari, but beyond that I don't; but those guys probably do", pointing to Peter and Chuck, who were still laughing pretty good. He turned to them, seated on the other side of the ferry from me, and asked seriously, "Do you guys really know what this is?" Peter again spoke for all of us, "Yeah, it's a Lamborgini" with a uncontrolable grin on his boyish face. As we laughed even harder this time, the guy was not amused, but kept his cool. Turns out that whatever model it is, it's the fastest production car in the world. I don't really care, but he sure did. Then we cut him some slack and talked casually, finding that the girl was from Australia. The were going for a drive through the estuary nearby. I mentioned they weren't likely to see too many wallabees over there. It truns out the girl doesn't like her homeland compared to California. Yeah, there probably aren't that many older gentlemen driving expensive Ferraris over there.
We hit land and headed for the coast hwy. where the pace hots up as we ride north again. Traditionally, our ride picks up anywhere along here and there are a lot of stop light between there and the destination, about 10 miles away. The dynamics of sticking with the spearhead of the group from here on are interesting and to me sort of an artform, since it is here that I am in danger of losing contact with the leaders. Often it will take a while before things get dicey as was the case this day. Aside from Jan sprinting for the Huntington Beach city limits sign, the pace was brisk but not unmanagable for me yet. I was still on the small chainring, as I had been for the entire ride thus far. The group passed several lights intact and the long straights between them had not turned into ahorserace just yet, although the signs were deffinitely there. I could just suck wheel the whole time and try to conserve energy for the crunch, but that's not how I ride. I do my part, bridge gaps, watch the moves, try to ride effeciently through traffic; but a pretty much never attack, since I know I could not survive it. Staying near the front is my primary objective, so that I can go with the moves and not get caught in a split at one of the lights. Once that happens, the leaders are almost gone and never seen again. I did severl intervals trying to keep up and not get left behind as we ride through HB where there is a bit of traffic and several lights; knowing that what comes next is "the hard part", the 6 mile stretch of pretty flat open road between the main beach area and the north beaches of HB. The dreded "Bolsa Chica State Beach, site of my first lovely flat on our rainy outing last time. My legs were already letting me know I was on thin ice and riding in the big ring would eventually take it's toll.
The leaders were pressing the pedals hard, and several times I had to do an intesnse interval to bridge the gap that would form from time to time. Several times I had the benifit of stoplights that aided me in closing the nearly impossible distance of 5 meters between me and the front few while we were still interupted by the occassional light. By the time we hit the long stretch of beach with no lights I was still in contact through the efforts of myself, Jan, and whoever was there to help. Finally I was at the breaking point and during one of those really hard efforts, 99 to 100% of what I had in me, is where the grunting and such Jan that mentioned earlier can happen. Most of the time I'm probably at 85 to 90% effort just to keep up but I'm not actually coughing up a lung at that time. It's only suring those supreme efforts that I can't keep the vocal part from comming out. I'm sure several people will remember the Sat. ride at Le Cirque last year where they rode past me, some to give me a nice push, as they heard my trademark sounds of lung exiting at 100% effort to crest any hill even the size of a speed bump. When I'm toast I still give it everything I have; if I die on the road then it is a lucky day for the vultures as I croak on the side of the road. But as most know by now, I HATE vultures and am a VERY determined little troll and I have one policy; NEVER give up (unless you're dead). And who knows, I may even come back to haunt you!
As a matter of fact, I did come back to haunt the leaders once again. Jan pressed on in chase of the others and I was content to continue at 90% effort and time trial to the finish if neccessary. I try not to get caught from behind unless there is obvious benifit to doing so. Frequently others come from behind and then leave me. It's OK, I'm still going to fight it out all the way. On this occassion I was solo about midway across the nomansland section, but I could still see the group and there was no one in sight behind me. I knew there was a stoplight at the other end, just before we enter Sunset Beach, which is only a few short (but hard) miles from our destination. There are two possibilities, either they get the upper hand at the light or I do. My lucky cards dictated that the group, about 30 seconds ahead of me had stopped. I began to pedal harder as I approached and hit them at full speed exactly as the started off and reached speed and all of a sudden their worst nightmare was BACK. I tucked the lung back down my throat and settled in to suck wheel for another mile or so whwn I knew that there was an overpass over the coast Hwy. that allows boats to pass under to get to Huntington Harbor. To me, this is always like Mt. Everest because I'm always totally out of gas by this time. It's probably less than two miles to the finish, so mentally I know I can make it. The group shed me before the bridge, even after a nice push from Peter that allowed me to stay with them for another 1/4 mile. As I got to the bridge I could see a tall figure riding solo over the bridge, who I assume was Jan and I stood up to begin to get over thos beast. My legs would not hold me up! I fell back to the saddle immediately, realizing that I was going to have to sit this one out. I finally got over it and rode solo to Jays' where I was able to collapse in comfort as we awaited the arrival of group two. The others were already sucking down beers, water, and so on when I came into the back yard. I can usually barely walk nor get off my bike at these times, and this was no exception. This time was no exception.
I'll break it off here. I'll pick up for the party segment whenever. I said I'd get to part two at lunch; well here it is, only 24 hours later. That's how it is around here. This takes a lot of time to peck out with two fingers, so I have to pace myself. I shall return!
Brian Baylis
La Mesa, CA