Well, it went like this: Friday's rain and
SNOW activated a particularly jumpy bundle of synapses in my brain, an atavistic old neural structure that has its own peculiar logic, maybe for dealing with Ice Age threats. So, Saturday, I lubed the 1987 GT Karakoram rigid mtb, still wearing its studded Nokian winter shoes, and rode East.
I enjoyed the customary pleasures of this route, playing in traffic, cranking up big old hills courtesy of the Fells Escarpment, and whizzing down the other side of said hills, all the while emitting carbide stud bare pavement crackle sounds while serenely safe from the black ice that of course wasn't there. Nice ride, even so, but I am now resolved to perform the seasonal tire swap on that bike that I had thought of doing on Friday, during the unremarkable rainy day that had been forecast, before the SNOW and the mania struck.
After dodging enough trucks and surfing enough hills, I rode West, and ultimately, rode home, where I put the GT in the garage and thanked it for its ice bike service for this (extended) season.
rod