Thunder Dan

After doing squats & lunges Sunday night my legs were in shambles and I therefore resolved that I nice 40 miler yesterday would be just the thing to work out a little of that soreness. As any astute reader has probably already gathered, this sort of logic is a prelude to disaster and the ride was a horrific three hours of self flagellation with my riding partner serving as its gloating masochistic witness.

My buddy, being far more familiar with the route than I (not to mention in better condition to giving me pulls) was leading the ride. At one point we arrived at a four way intersection, where I pulled up to his left to say something that I am sure was either immature or a lie. Anyhow, we clip back in and I head straight while my buddy turns in the proper direction which, in this case, was left. Needless to say, he figured I would be traveling in the correct direction as well and was surprised when he found that our steeds had interlocked horns and were duking it out in the middle of the intersection. Luckily through a feat of skill and problem solving, the Gordian knot that was our handlebars was undone and we were able to wrest our respective bikes from the grip of the other’s.

Back on track, we begin our climb up the last hill of the ride which then finishes down a long sweeping down hill that dumps you back into our city’s outer limits. We’re suffering up the climb (okay, well at least I was), when I catch a glimpse of something large, dark, and furry out of the corner of my eye. Sweet Odin’s Raven, it’s a f**kin’ bear!!! We’re so close that if I reached out my hand and he his paw, we could have exchanged daps (defined here, grandpa). I opted not to exchange a physical greeting with the bear…in fact I decided that no greeting at all would probably be the appropriate approach in this particular situation. I mutter to my buddy, who’s wheel I am know hard on, “don’t look now, but there is a bear to your right”. Of course he fails to heed my warning and cranes his head back to catch a glimpse of this large predator standing mere feet away, and then there’s an “Holy Shti!”. His head snaps back forward, and we’re both avoiding eye contact with the bear, like ignoring him will someone how eliminate us as a potential meal. Luckily he does not give chase and we are able to hammer up the rest of the climb fueled on adrenaline and fear.

After getting back home and debriefing our friends, I realized that I have seen five bears in my life time, and every time its been while I was on a bike. Three of those times was on a mountain bike, so I won’t talk about there here lest I be cast in BF Solitary, and the other is too uneventful to recount.

hammy56

pics or it didnt happen

NickDavid

cohophysh

who you calling grandpa you young whipper snapper

Thunder Dan

Yup, that's him.