Gimme Shelter

Saturday afternoon I shot up to Chico and rode with Big Vick and Kareem up to Centerville, welcome to Helltown, Baby! Note the shanty in the background and insert your own banjo music here. There was then a adjournement to the Bear for some beverages and burgers.

Hung out with Chico-cyclist and Chico-cyclista at their lovely home, thanks for the hospitality and directions, ya'll!

Much Peets was drank , much bike talk wuz talked, and we all crashed out early for the big day.

Got lot's of 411 on the ride, what to look for, etc, by the Chico crew, but seeing 2- 300 folks on a little country road still gets quite interesting.

Soon we turned onto Lassen road(where the race blew up last year) and things got rolling a bit. Big difference from last year was the lack of wind, keeping things together and rolling at a nice clip.

A few early moves were made, but without all the teams represented, and goofballs chasing the bridges and dragging the pack, it was nothing doing till Corning, where I found myself easing off the front with a Spine fella. Easing, easing, easing and I'm not sure what's going to go down being my clueless Cat 4 self, but even my goofy ass knows that those guys are never up there without a good reason, so I hang in there and boom, things go quickly with spine and the spider, as well as a Davis guy, I believe.

I help for probably 5 rotations before I'm blown up and deeply outclassed by my company, and retreat to my customary position deep in the shelter of the herd, but they are outasight quickly in a interesting turn of events.

Nome and I try a simple handoff of clothing and somehow we BOTH drop his vest, causing me to have to ride back for it, drop it off, and get a quick lesson in holding onto cars at 30+ to get back on, and if anyone has some good pointers on this skill, I'm all ears.

Longest ride of the year for me has been probably 60 miles so far, and the first twinges come by Paskenta. I kept hearing about the "dirt is coming soon", like the frickin' grim reaper, but I have no idea where I am and somehow missed the turn for the 75 mile option , so I'm reasonably committed, but can't see through hills and so even with my efforts to stay well-positioned, hit the dirt road about 50-60 back.

Where all hell breaks loose.

All I can say if you ran a Michelin softie-race, or a Vredi-stank-in -the -dirt, I'm sorry. I hope the cornering prowess on those smooth roads was apparent. I ran Conti 4000's in the nice beefy 28 range and drove through every goddamn hole with no real worries. Pop-Pop- fizz-fizz was heard many times in the next 4 miles, but I was digging it big time, driving a big cookie over the gravel and trying to bridge the widening gap with a few like minded souls. We hit the asphalt and it was hero time for the 8 guys or so in my group, about a quarter mile to get back.

Many times in the lower ranks people panic and attack out of the bunch, killing the whole effort, but these guys hung with it and we got back on to the lead pack, where I languished attempting to eat salt pills and drink lots, as the hammie and right quad were getting pretty bejiggety.

Nobody told me about the rollers, the ones that on a normal ride would be a nice little effort, but today looked like the Mortirolo in front of me. I made it over two, but I could see the front guys hopping to it on the next one and I was 30 feet short, with a spectacular implosion driving into the gravel on the side.

I rode easy and looked at my map, resigning myself to a life of solitude, when the bus blew into town, and a nice, 23 mph bus it was. Tandems, racers, and some strong century guys, but just right for me for about 20 miles, until the strong roadies that had been dropped/flatted in the gravel arrived and began to attack each other at 28 mph for the dubious honors of, oh 45th or so.

My quad survived for a while, but soon it locked up and I had to small ring it back to the finish line and Chico's truck.

98.5 miles, 4:30 ride time.

Again, thanks to the Chico bunch for putting up with my requests and and Chico Velo for quasi-putting it on.

I'll be back and train a little the next time.

And I believe on the way out of town I saw a Petit hanging in a paceline going down 32, so good job finishing that monster!