Friday night started out with some track racing. I’ve logged a lot of time on a “fixie” since I was 16 - riding a century (100 miles) in Colorado, negotiating snow and ice packed bike paths, the delivering on the streets of Manhattan with the purest of bicycles beneath me – but riding on the banked surfaces of a velodrome still made me feel like a beginner. My “fixie” is currently set up with a left-side drive system, bull-horn handlebars, around-town gearing, and an old Campy front wheel I literally found in a dumpster. All these parts make it very cool in my mind, but also completely and totally illegal to ride on the track. So I called my friend Steve to see if I could borrow a bike.
Steve may have just had a kid, but that doesn’t make him old or uncool just yet. His text informed me that not only had he left his bike out for me to use, he also left a bigger chainring in case I wanted to put the hurt on people, tools to change it, and a couple beers in a cooler because that’s also mandatory equipment for track night. Armed with all of this I went over to the track and prepared to get flogged. I won a preem (a midrace sprint) and finished midpack the rest of the time so I’ll definitely be back to get flogged some more.
When I was in Canoa I met a gringo walking around cleaning up the beach in exchange for free drinks at one of the hostels. He introduced me to his step-son Tino who came to California a few weeks ago. After his trip to Vegas and Palm Springs we finally got to hang out Friday night. Tino took me to a bar in Quito that serves beer for $5 an hour (yes, by the hour), so of course I needed to show him a good night.
We headed straight to Pacific Beach with Aimee and met up with Ninja, Austin, and Moto Matt who had all just finished the Critical Mass ride. It took some effort but I was able to rally nearly everyone for a night on the town. We enjoyed some microbrews on the deck of the Ale House over looking the ocean, got some late night Mexican food, and walked home along the boardwalk to round out a good SD Friday night. The night ended sometime around 4am when I dropped Tino off, and four hours later I was on my way to Boulder.
A friend’s birthday, an interview, a business venture, and an opportunity to talk to another company all coincided in one week, and I, always happy to hang out in Colorado, seized the occasion to go back. Sean and I knew each other for all of about 6 minutes and 3 phone calls before we decided to take on the 1300 miles to Boulder in a packed sedan but luckily our first impressions were good. He picked me up Saturday morning and we started rolling towards Salt Lake where we planned to meet up with one of his friends for a bike ride on Sunday morning.
Genie, Sean’s friend, had run 31 miles on Saturday, and then waited for us to arrive before having dinner. Then, as if it was nothing, got up on Sunday morning to take us for a mountain bike ride. I immediately diagnosed her as crazy, but the good kind.
We rolled though the hills near Salt Lake enjoying the fresh air and open space, happy not to be sitting in a car but rather on our bikes. The only thing that detracted from the ride was the rear brakes on my borrowed bike which I believe were just there for show as they provided no stopping power. High speed switchbacks and techy rock-strewn stretches of trail lost some of their fun when I had to lock up my front wheel to scrub speed. Eeek.
We got into Boulder around midnight and I’ve spent the day enjoying the thin mountain air and dry heat, but sorely missing the ocean already.
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