There's a Menace on the Roads

It was Saturday and The FeMan was antsy. Since trying to shorten his thumb in the snow he was not having fun riding his bike. Braking solely with his right hand with a little assistance from the left required planning far, far ahead and hoping that there would be no need for emergency stops.

The magnets on his thumb seemed to be drawing in energy (if drawing in energy meant that it periodically felt like 220V were coursing through his thumb). The thumbstick pain was decreasing and he was getting some strength back, albeit not nearly enough to brake hard with his left hand.

Running only just wasn't cutting it. The FeMan needed a real ride. Not wanting to endanger The Troublemakers, he decided to ride with The Men of Cascade Bicycle Club. They had a ride of appropriate length and effort scheduled to go on Saturday morning. Then, the rain.

Splat, splat, splat on the windows as The FeMan went upstairs to don his cycling togs. He stared out the window. "Will it begin to pour? Or, is this just a little misting which will pass through?" The sun beamed down through the clouds across the lake as he stared out the windows. He rubbed his hand, trying to ease the deep ache. He thought about The Troublemakers pounding out the miles in Snohomish County and felt compelled to give it a go.

The FeMan carefully packed his hand brace, hoping it would be enough to ease the jarring of a ride. His steed's tires were filled and a brand new cycling computer was mounted and ready to start accumulating the miles. Everything went into the car, then a flash journey across the lake.

Arriving early, there was time to listen to a few more minutes of "the car guys" before trundling over to the appointed meeting place.

The Men of Cascade Bicycle Club were gathering. It was clear that some of them were friends, one with another, as they talked of "groupos" and other "bikey" stuff. The rest of us were silent, warily checking each other out.

We were clearly following the silence is golden rule.

After a time, the leader announced himself. Not by name, but by talking loudly and by offering a democratic alternative to either a ride around Lake Sammamish or a ride around Mercer Island. "We don't want everyone to think we're a 2-ride group," he said. With grunts of assent from the group, it was off to Mercer Island.

By this time a light rain had begun to fall and the streets were well dampened. The Men of Cascade Bicycle Club immediately took off. "Shit," said The FeMan as he tried to shift into his big ring. The pain was tremendous as he pushed against the shift lever with his thumb, then tried to turn his hand around to use other fingers. Meanwhile he was shooting down the street and wobbling all over.

"Not a good sign. I'm a real menace. Should I forget all this?"

As The Men of Cascade Bicycle Club shot forward, a stop light turned red, forcing The FeMan to vigourously apply his brakes. Of course, his rear wheel locked up and he slid out into the intersection. Unhappily, there were 2 Men of Cascade Bicycle Club to observe this totally uncool behaviour. The rest of the group was caught by the next light, allowing The
FeMan to catch up.

This was going to take some figuring to get this stopping and shifting stuff down. The FeMan decided to stay off the back so he wouldn't take someone else down when he had to horse around with his brakes or shifting.

Being so far off the back early on, The FeMan was getting lots of patronizing looks. "I'll bet I'm the only one here having his 51st birthday tomorrow. Maybe I'm even the oldest of the group. (Bunch of wet-eared pups!). You should try riding with only one good hand." Etc, etc.

South, then west through Medina. Tree root bumps are really tough when you're trying not to jar your hand. More south to Bellevue, Beaux Arts, then Mercer Island. The FeMan was cautious in the curves on East Mercer Way, but the group was pretty mellow.

Then coming back up the west side of the island, there was an attack! Being so far off the back, The FeMan didn't realize it right away. As the group headed north, riders began to fall off the back. The FeMan would try to catch the pack,that's a fun game. He put the hammer down and kept it "in the big ring". One by one, the failing riders were picked off. Still the pack continued to inch away. The FeMan realized the terrain was moving by much more quickly than it would tomorrow when he would be running around Mercer Island.

By the time the lead group reached I-90, they were the only riders ahead of The FeMan. Then they stopped for a regroup. More golden silence and some whining as riders came up. The FeMan removed his jacket, in spite of the rain. It was warm.

The group headed back towards Bellevue and The FeMan was really beginning to feel his oats. A few more hill attacks and a quick zip into Kirkland and it was all over.

After putting his bike into his car, The FeMan gingerly removed his glove.

Funny how much an elastic wrist band can hurt! It was a good day: got some riding, didn't die from being unable to control his bike, and didn't kill anyone else by being out of control!

Still, The FeMan is a menace. Someone should pass a law!

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