Friday, February 25


...the ground unsuccessfully.

I think I'm going to go ahead and call it…no Ramming Speed Friday this afternoon. We've had a faux-snowpocalypse. At 6am this morning the local news channel (Weather Propaganda Experts) were showing "live" footage of snow falling. I looked out the window. No snow. I live 9 miles by bike from the TV station.

Anyway, I got ready and dressed for the alleged temps in the teens with single digit windchills. Of course I would be sweating like a hog being interrogated by the House Judiciary Committee (Have you ever been associated with the communist party?) by the time I reached work.

As I rolled the old Cannonball out the door there was a "dusting" of snow on the ground. And away we went.

The streets had that windblown look but didn’t seem too slick. My standard commuting uniform was keeping me comfortably warm. I was glad for my new glove liners for sure. When I reached the CCT I saw one set of tire tracks in the half inch of fresh snow. Within a hundred yards they veered off onto a neighborhood street and I was alone in the greenbelt accompanied only by the hiss of my slick commuter tires over the snow.

It was a most uneventful ride into Golden, except for the fact that the further west I rode the deeper the snow got and the heavier it fell. I never did start sweating like a communist hog.

The site of my failed attempt to fly (see Douglas Adams' exhaustive study of the subject in his seminal "trilogy" The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) was the 90° turn from the paved path onto the wooden bridge over Tucker Gulch just south of 10th Ave in Golden. I guess after riding for 45 minutes or so over the snow I had become complacent. As I coasted down the slight grade toward the turn I realized (too late) that I was going far too fast for the conditions. I probably completed that thought as I slid headfirst toward the bridge railing. Luckily the bridge has a rough wood surface with maximum friction. I slowed immediately and did not crash into the steel railing. Thankfully, because of the coating of snow and my bulky clothing I didn’t get any splinters either.

Y'know, when you're riding along at a good clip on a bike you're only connected to the earth by a small oh, so very small chunk of real estate. It does feel like you've slipped the surly bonds of earth. But once you start gliding across frozen water crystals you know what it truly feels like to fly.

I got up, did a quick mental diagnostic, realized I was still the quirky, goofy guy I've always been with no new bodily injuries and continued along toward my place of gainful employment. The hill on Illinoising was tricky. I was trying to maximize my weight over the rear wheel, and I could have used those five or so pounds I've lost recently. I made it okay and endured the stupidity that runs rampant on the higher education campus every time it snows.

So here I am. I won't rocket home tonight. No, I'll be taking it nice and easy so I can continue to torment you with my tales of mediocre cycling "adventure."

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