I feel like I've been here before, but that's true of probably most rides. As usual, this one was layer cake of the familiar and the novel, variations on a theme. For a start, the weather, once I finished up my Saturday morning dawdling (I envy you Dawn people), was uncertain. The weather radar looked ugly, but the actual weather was, at worst, mild drizzle. "It could always get worse," I told myself... "Yeah, so what, you want to fiddle with bicycle lists on the computer for two hours until it's sunny?" I replied. The consequence of this little interior colloquy was that I went out to the garage to fiddle with the saddle height and angle on the Ebisu, testing each candidate setting by riding around the block, because, after all, how drenched could I get a block from home, no matter what the weather did? Fortunately for me, that proposition wasn't put to the test, and after three trips around the block, with intervals of seat fiddling in between, I had set up the seat to my preliminary satisfaction, to be reconsidered when more data came to hand, and had experimentally determined that three trips around the block amounted to 1.19 miles. This sheds some light on the behavior of a neighbor, who systematically walks around the block many times a day. It's a little creepy, because he's ALWAYS THERE, but I guess if he does it 15 times, that's 5 miles, and it probably does him some good, so nothing to sneeze at. And I thought I was in a rut with the Minuteman... Fiddling with the seat is quite Familiar, but I usually do it by interrupting an actual ride, even if it's just to Lexington, so this riding around the block was Novel.
Anyhow, by then, the worst of the early weather radar threats had headed SouthEast and out to sea (or, at least, to Plymouth County, which amounts to practically the same thing), there was only one nasty bunch of stuff up in the White Mountains, which might as well be Tibet, I thought. Nevertheless, I resolved to consult the Pocket Devil from time to time, in case I were wrong about that.
That settled, grabbed a couple of water bottles and some snacks and took the Ebisu All Purpose Bicycle out for a longer ride than heretofore. I had a route in mind, but there were some decision points where I could consult the Pocket Devil, and bail for home if things looked unfavorable.
First, I had to get out of Arlington. This involved not colliding with any of the happy pedestrians (with a few cyclists interspersed) who were strolling (or rolling) about, taking in Arlington Porchfest. This is a jolly, annual event, and thus far I've ridden away from it.
The Uncle Sam statue is apparently considered a porch. I guess it's the Town's porch.
Porchfest itself: Familiar; the specific acts I rolled by: Novel. Rolling by: Familar. Beyond Uncle Sam, there were 10 pleasantly congested miles of Familiar on the Minuteman. But first, there was Arlington High School graduation exercises, Novel in their particulars. A police car was parked on the Minuteman, just in case; that was Novel, too.
Having reached Depot Park (Familiar), I consulted the Pocket Devil, and observed that the storm had left the White Mountains, and was moving SouthEast. I resolved to keep an eye on that. Meanwhile, I rolled out 225 (Familiar), and paused to admire the Concord River (Familiar), which was running high (Familiar enough, though not its only trick). The main point of interest was the sky, which looked energetic enough to be Novel, or, at least, Modal.
Rode the rolling hills of River Road, Carlisle, and Monument Street, Concord, a Familiar pleasure. Observed how the Ebisu handled itself in those conditions (Novel), and was happy with what I saw. That bike climbs gamely, and descends like a demon. I'm learning its peculiar pedalstroke; I may want to raise the seat a few millimeters, or to figure out how to set the saddle back about a centimeter; just possibly, I might want to experiment with shorter crank arms. Or maybe I'll simply adapt to this new bike. We'll see. Lots of new sensations (Novel, by definition).
Monument Street was still somewhat chewed up from last Winter's freeze-thaw-plow cycle (Familiar), and the Ebisu's low-trail (barely) steering allowed me to miss most of the potholes at speed (Familiar behavior from the Rawland, but not a given with this bike, and so Novel, until I get used to it), and the 32mm Compass Stampede Pass Extralight tires and the steel frame and fork ate the vibrations from any rough stuff that I didn't avoid in a Familiar, but welcome, manner. I think the Stampede Pass Extralight tires are a noticeable improvement over the similarly sized Grand Bois Cypres Extra Leger that I'm running on the Rawland, so Novel.
I took a water/fuel/photo break at the top of the series of hills, overlooking Hutchins Farm (Familiar). Three (3) separate passing cyclists asked me if I were OK? This is DREARILY FAMILIAR, lately seems to happen the majority of times I pause a ride for whatever purpose, and generally comes from earnest youngsters who are several decades younger and several dozen pounds lighter than I am. I chalk it up to templated thinking, or maybe to a failure of imagination, or something. I suppose if I said that I were having chest pains, they'd stop and administer CPR. Feh! Pretty view, though, the fruit bar was tasty, and the water was wet (Familiar).
Rolled into Concord Center, my next decision point, and consulted the Devil of the Pocket. The storm had continued to move SE at a brisk pace, and was now well into Massachusetts. Looked like I was going to get wet. I MIGHT beat it if I beat it for home immediately, and I might miss it entirely if I continued S down to Sudbury, Wayland, and Weston (my original target route), but you never know with storms. I decided to bail (Familiar), and proceeded out Lexington Street to Old Bedford Road and Virginia Road (Familiar, Familiar, Familiar). Along the way, I decided that this little road-side (former) store was my favorite building in Concord, at least for today (Novel); it has oneiric properties, the sort of thing that might show up in a certain kind of comfortable dream (Familiar).
Virginia Road crosses Elm Brook in Concord, where it drains a beautiful meadow. It mirrored the sky. Redwing blackbirds flew about, perched, and sang. All that was FAMILIAR and DANDY.
Continued on Virginia Road, climbing up from Elm Brook past the
This Old House HQ, then zipped down the descent into Lincoln and across the end of one of the Hanscom runways, then up the steepest grade of the ride (Familiar), to the intersection with Old Bedford Road (Lincoln). The Ebisu acquitted itself well during all this up-hill-and-down-dale stuff, and I was particularly pleased that shifts on the front (triple-crank) derailleur were smooth, accurate, and devoid of drama or noise (not quite as Familiar as it should be, so I'll call it Novel). I patted myself on the back for apparently setting it up correctly, beginner's luck. Anyway, the bike made it, I made it, and no CPR from Earnest Young People was required.
Rolled out Hanscom Drive to Route 2A (is it Marrett Road here? North Great Road? Dunno, and I think Mr. Google has changed his answer in recent years, he does that sometimes (TOO FAMILIAR)). That's where the first raindrops hit. Big, cold, fat ones, but not that many. Given that they were the first, they were
ipso facto Novel. I continued to Mill Street, then took Lexington Street, Lincoln, and Lincoln Street, Lexington, along the Northern bank of the Cambridge Reservoir (Familiar). Stopped to admire the fully-charged reservoir (after last year's drought, Novel), which was holding a bowl-full of clouds (rarely-enough seen to be Novel), with a rainbow and its reflection at the S end (Novel, but couldn't manage to trick the Pocket Devil into photographing it). Raindrops were falling on the calm surface, but not too many.
From there, rolled through Lexington and Arlington via Familiar routes. In Arlington Center, there were signs of wet pavement (Novel, for this ride), and the rain picked up. For a minute or two, I was entertaining the hypothesis, supported by the data, that raindrops only hit my right knee. Then one hit my left knee, and I added a symmetry principle to generalize the hypothesis. After a bit, a raindop hit my chin, and that was that. But, what the hey, three publications, not a total loss. Familiar. Pedaled home and put the bike away, while the rain picked up, just a bit. Familiar.
32 miles through Arlington, Lexington, Bedford, Carlisle, Concord, and Lincoln. Familiar route, with some Novel bits along the way.
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