Dream Big

"These riders, once not even considered worthy of a training ride, are about to steal the day." --Phil Liggett

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Snowtards

I'll bet Sarah Palin was driving in Philly today. How do I know this? Because the roads were cluttered with snowtards. In case the allusion is lost on you, check out the Huffington Post.

I took the single speed out on a little expedition to survey the neighborhood for damage and stupidity and discovered an abundance of both. Downed trees and wires were the main problems other than the snowtards.

An out-of-gas Volvo and stuck mini-van stalled progress on the Gowen Avenue bridge. Nice job, snowtards!
Drivers on Chew and Mt Airy Avenues weren't going anywhere. One women was negotiating treacherous conditions while yakking on the cell phone. I tried to conjure telekinetic powers that would enable me to set her on fire, but alas, I'm insufficient in that area. My powers are limited after all. Good news for the snowtards.

Other snowtardery included the old "if I keep revving the engine I'll break free of the snow" routine. And the "I'm just going to stop in the middle of the street to chat even though there are cars behind me" routine. I amused passersby with my weaving in and out of stuck cars. I dinged my bell and smiled like a fiend.

So I noodled around Mt Airy and Chestnut Hill, stopping of course at the Night Kitchen Bakery. Their trashcans were covered:
The Brewers Outlet parking lot was better plowed than Jeff's mom (inside joke applicable to a few twisted souls). The outlet knows it's going to be a weekend with little for people to do except swill beer: I was going to say howdy to the fine fellows at Wiss Cycles, but they were wisely closed. No school for me today:Willow Grove Avenue was clear, but a downed power line closed Creisheim Valley Road. I enjoyed a nice conversation with the police office in charge of keeping folks of the road. I expected a snowtard to argue with him, but none came by while I was there.

Tragically, lawn tennis has been suspended indefinitely:No need to clean those tennis whites, Cricket Clubbers. Do you think they would alert the police if I skied on their cricket pitch? Pitch? Patch? Pooch?

Arbor Massacre:Boyer Street, above, closed due to downed tree. Someone put a folding chair with an 8x11 inch paper saying "Road Closed Ahead" to alert snowtards not to venture down the blocked artery. Nigel Tuffnel was on the case, because the only drivers who would notice that sign would be in matchbox cars.
This broken limb (above) at the corner of Crefeld and W. Moreland came perilously close to a house. And below, right in between the Wissahickon Inn and Jordan Buildings at Chestnut Hill Academy. Good thing we didn't have school today!
The Trolley Car Diner's ice cream trolley took a hit. The picture doesn't do it justice, but there's snow all the way up the ramp. You had to be there. Never mind.Fortunately, I managed to remain upright throughout the ride. Otherwise, I would have been Queen of the Snowtards. Instead, I'm a simple snow jester who will go to any lengths to avoid the trainer. Any.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Snowmageddon

The snow arrived on Friday night, putting a bit of a crimp in the Sturdy Girl cocktail party. Beaucoup bucks were raised, but the crowd was definitely smaller than in years past. By the time I toodled home close to 10, the roads were slick.

Saturday I didn't even bother, opting instead to ski for 3 hours. Ouch. Sunday I noodled around Forbidden Drive which was smooth and full of cross country skiers. No other bikes were out there. I only did the following once:
It's nice to know that I'm not the only one that crashes with such panache.

Happy digging out.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Trust your gut

10 minutes into the Saturday ride at the Plateau I had a funny feeling that I'd neglected to lock the car door. Every 10 minutes from then on I'd think about it. Did I? Did I bring my wallet or leave it on the ping pong table? Should I call home? Nah.

Totally wrecked an otherwise awesome ride.

We (me, M, Pam and Naomi)ran into Walt, King of the Plateau, and I shared my nagging suspicion that I'd done something incredibly stupid. He said not to worry because "those people" don't come out in the cold. Really? Criminals stay inside during nasty weather? OK. Still, I raced back to the car.

Too late.

Door open. Wallet gone. Or did I leave it at home? Pulling into the driveway 25 minutes later, I receive a phone call from Gus who asks if I purchased gas in the past 2 hours. The fraud detectives were on it. Well, now I know where my wallet isn't.

Stolen: Check card, Visa credit card, drivers license and my 2010 racing license. Sonofabitch. I hope whoever stole my stuff is the 3rd victim of a hit and run cyclist.

I was so mad at myself for being such a rube that I went for a hike with the dog and the boy to cheer myself up. I couldn't bear to ride on Sunday. I did manage to watch the Worlds and totally called it: Stybar with the win and Johnson top American. If only that kind of prognostication paid off. Then I could buy a new wallet.