grrgoyl

Another weekend, another adventure. This time with my long time, and in much better shape than Ryan, friend Gerry. He agreed to give my favorite trail, the Audubon Discovery Loop (or something), a try.

I worked the hospital the night before, and probably should have gone directly to the parking lot and slept there, because by the time I arrived at 10:30 am, Gerry was chomping at the bit to go and couldn't bear the 20-minute process I have to go through to get my bike off the rack. I blame the rack -- it's pretty old, and doesn't have those fancy clamps that just snap down. It uses nylon straps that I have to tie around and around and around, perhaps more than necessary but we all remember how harrowing my first adventure was when I had to pull over four times to keep resecuring them.

Finally we were underway. It was every bit as fun as I remembered, and I was pleased that Gerry seemed to like it just as much. There was a tiny snag about three minutes into the fun when he went left instead of right following me. "We'll meet farther up," he assured me as we went our separate ways. That doesn't work on this trail, where the path meanders in every direction, with more twists and turns than a Christopher Nolan movie.

I tried looking for him, asking every single person I came across if they saw a guy looking pitiful and lost. Finally I cooled my heels at a large crossroads area, and a few minutes later he called me, having the presence of mind even through the terror to return to his car for his phone. (Okay, he couldn't have been that terrified; he evidently explored quite extensively before heading back to the lot).

Reunited at last, we vowed to stay within sight of the other. This lasted a good fifteen minutes. Then I took a pretty bad spill. I looked down and saw my phone sliding out of my bag. I reached for it, took my eyes off the trail, and ran over an enormous root. I had about 2.5 seconds to realize I was going down, and BOOM! I went down on my right side, hard. No time to even start to think about dabbing.

Don't think the irony is lost on me of surviving the death trap of Deer Creek without a scratch, only to take this slam at the smooth (mostly), level and infinitely easier Audubon. Only it's a lot easier to escape unscathed when walking as opposed to biking.

Where was Gerry? Long gone. I tried calling after him, but it was about ten minutes before he noticed my absence. At least he doubled back for me eventually, which is what good friends do -- of course, better friends do it sooner. In the interim, another biker came up behind me. He stopped to help me with my handlebars, which had twisted and were now perfectly parallel with my front wheel. He got them spun back around in the right direction and made sure I hadn't broken any bones. Sir, ask me about my history of milk consumption. My bones are a walking billboard for the National Dairy Council.

Sadly, my skin isn't as invincible:





Gerry found me and put some manly torque on tightening the handlebars sufficiently, and thank god I just happened to have the hex wrench on me that fit. I don't even know what made me pack it. My guardian angel stuck it in the bag and then took the rest of the day off.

Gerry said he thought he heard a thud, but since it wasn't followed by a girly squeal he assumed it was nothing. I promised if it happened again I'd do my best to muster one. He also assumed, correctly, that I would want him to soldier on if I fell. God knows I already sucked up enough of the day with my interminable bike unloading activities.

As I repacked my frame bag, he suggested next time I just bring a purse. He can be so cruel, but I love him dearly.

I lost my phone and my camera in the fall, and had spent the entire time before Gerry finally pedaled his ass back to me pawing through the underbrush looking for them. When I found them Gerry questioned me bringing such an expensive-looking phone on the bike. I pointed out that if I hadn't, we'd still be wandering in circles trying to find each other.

I thought my rear blinker had come off too, but when I put the bike back on the rack at the end of the day I found it had twisted completely around underneath the seat. Like I said, I fell HARD.

I did leave something behind, maybe not as valuable, but a damn sight harder to replace. And no, I'm not going to say my pride. I had to empty the frame bag completely to find the hex wrench, and saw the highly specialized pentagonal wrench that came with my locking skewers on the ground (I carry it with me because it works on my seat post skewer too). I saw it, thought "Oh, don't forget that!" Then didn't give it a second thought until I got home.

It turns out you can't just get the wrench all by itself, probably to prevent bike thieves from owning them easily (though honestly, if I were a thief, $20 for a skewer set with special tool on eBay that would let me steal tires that were worth significantly more would make good financial sense). I thought my only option would be to buy a whole new set, but I can think of a lot of things I'd rather spend $20 on. Tery of course thinks I fully deserve the headache because the locking skewers are unnecessary.

Ever the optimist, I reasoned that at least I had quick release skewers on for my trip, so I wasn't stuck with knobbies all week.

The thought of that tool sitting on the side of the path tormented me all night. Sure, I could go all the way back across town and try to retrieve it. Assuming it was still there, which wasn't a safe assumption after the massive thunderstorm we had last night. But damn, I sure didn't want to spend $20 I didn't have to.

I tried Bicycle Village first, which couldn't help me, and my boyfriend Tim Cera wasn't working, so that was a complete waste of a trip. They referred me to a hardware store, which was an even bigger waste. On a whim, however, I stopped at Adventure Cycling right across the street from our house, which I've always avoided because I thought it was an exclusive store that catered only to serious, extreme cyclists. It sort of is, but the guy got on the computer and said he could special order me one for only $2. I would have asked for three just to have back-ups, but thought that might seem suspicious.

Anyhoo. Back on the trail. Since a bike ride isn't worthwhile unless you end up painfully gasping for air at some point, Gerry suggested going across the street to South Valley Park (?) This is actually on the same road as Deer Creek Canyon, and I warned him if I suspected he was trying to trick me into going back to that hellhole, I would jump out of his car so fast it would make his head spin.

He wasn't, and South Valley wasn't nearly as nightmarish. A fair amount of climbing, but fun downhill too -- especially one long, clear stretch with smooth mounds of dirt just high enough to give a little lift. I actually got some air on a few of them, which would have been more awesome if my handlebars hadn't so recently been so drastically out of whack.

But I lived to tell the tale (obvs). When I got home my injuries really started hurting, probably coming off the adrenaline rush. Ever the optimist, I reasoned that at least I sleep on my left side.

What I learned this weekend:

• It would have been awfully nice if the handlebar bag I ordered from Amazon had arrived before this trip.


• Granny gears ain't just for grannies.


• Sometimes guys are secretly thankful that their lady friends have to stop to catch their breath.

~*~

Since I don't know how to end this, have some super adorable pics of Logues Bogues: