MoRonIc 1-25-07

The CF Ride Report: Java Hut, 6:30, Tuesday January 23, 2007. Fuzzy, Dana, Hans, Hunter, Ron, Pete, Mo, Russell, Larry, Bob. Bob! Yay! We set off well enough, 6:28 (we gotta stop doing that….). Russell, providing our first hint of what was to come, showed us a “new way” through the neighborhood that involved all ten of us riding through somebody’s living room, lights ablazing (it was actually a perfectly legitimate path, but it just felt like we could reach out and grab a beer from their fridge—okay, wait—this just became my favorite path…). So, us non-warp-speed riders get to the top of the 132% grade driveway to be alone, in the dark, the group gone on without us. Oh well, we know how to get to Deer Park. Up we went to five corners, lost Bob, (I’m still sad about this…and not just cause he might have had beer, my heart secretly yearns for that roving full action kiss I received at the Drum lo those many moons ago) (I think I just mini-hurled) continued up the paved road, across to the dam where we started Sunnyside, came out on the road and got onto Pine Point going around Bon Tempe. People didn’t stop at one of the many trail intersections and I saw lights on my left and over there coming toward me in a disorienting way, so I went left while Ron and Fuzzy stayed straight, then I realized that the pack o’ lights coming toward me was the lead group having gone all the way around and that I was on a cut-through. I weakly informed Fuzzy of this, figuring my mumbled “errrrrr splatehch goes the same place anyway fummmmmmbelll” would make sense and that they would continue around and we’d all hook up. Well, we didn’t. We got to the end of Pine Point and waited, saw their lights coming so figured, you know, that they were COMING, but then a funny thing happened—they didn’t. I rode back all the way around to where I had lost them, to no avail. They had been sucked into the night, irretrievable. 􀀯􀀯􀀯 (that is a new function on my keyboard! I LOVE Bill Gates!!) We then went up and partway around Lagunitas, up Rock Springs where we were trying to get to Berry (in honor of my lost smoochy pal). We had told Russell it was on the right, about ¾ miles up. I come around a corner and boys are diving in on the left. WTF trail are they taking? What? They thought they heard a Ranger truck and all dove off the edge. Freaks. Down Berry (wahoo!), Shadyside, drinks and snacks at the dam, saw Ron and Fuzzy’s lights across the way, signaled to them using Nite Rider Morse Code—we meant to say “Hey! You Guys! Over here! Join us!” but I guess we are rusty and it must’ve come out something like “Hey! The Holstein Loves a Gremlin Good in the Spring!” instead cause they turned right the hell around and left. Or they thought we were rangers. Or they just hated us (how prescient this notion turned out to be…). So we packed it up and went on to Sky Oaks trail, Taylor trail to Concrete Pipe to Five Corners to that trail in the middle where we met up with Fuzzy and Ron. Papa Duck Not Happy. It felt like we all turned into small and fluffy little yellow chicks being taken to task for a massive indiscretion on the playpond. The little duckies were silent in their shame, little webbed feet nervously futzing with a pedal, a lever, avoiding eye contact—you know when you got in trouble when you were a kid and you didn’t say anything at all cause, well, shit, Dad was right, you did in fact crash the family car getting it airborne in the school zone while on acid when you were 6 ½ (“I’m THIS many! Sell me the crack!)? It was like that. He was really quite diplomatic, given the circumstances. So, everybody properly dressed down, it was time to go. “Ahem, boys? It’s okay, you can GO now…..he wont bite…..Go….there ya go…..go! Okay NOW!” Nobody would move. Hell, I’ll GO then! Two Owl and out. Iron Springs. Pulled Pork 88th week. Seriously though, this sort of thing becomes more of an issue when we get a larger group. Common courtesy says if there’s a trail split, look over your shoulder, if nobody is there, wait. It’s easy! It works! Also, for newcomers, please be mindful that a group over 8-10 gets pretty unwieldy for a nightride (as demonstrated here), so please don’t forward invites (our current list—including Hans and Hunter is great—but we gotta keep the size in check to retain the fun-factor). We do a “come one come all” ride mid-summer (and boy do they come! 27 last time??), and we’ll probably do more than one this year. Thanks! Mo-Gestapo.