Maybe it's a rain thing

In my last post, I bemoaned what I perceive as a general lack of open friendliness on the part of many, possibly a majority, of enthusiast cyclists I see, and greet, on the roads.  These are the people on "real bikes", but that's certainly their vernacular, not mine.  In fact, whenever confronted, possibly affronted, by that phrase, I have for years refuted it by pointing out that, no, those of us so enamored with biking to consider it a sport, we ride dreamlike machines made of exotic materials that cost thousands of dollars and can be lifted with a pinkie. Real bikes in the real world, they are ridden by the real masses who may have bought them at a box store.  That is reality.

But hey, surprise, I digress, again.  Today is America's birthday and we are rapidly approaching a quarter of the way to Hitler's dream for Germany.  I mean the thousand year reich thing, but unfortunately, this country often seems to flirt dangerously with some of that zealot's other elitist ideals.  Another tangent anyone?  But no, back to bikes, I'd been thinking of reenacting my July Fourth celebration of what must be about a decade ago: I'd proposed riding a century, independent of any of that coasting nuisance, on fixed gear bikes.  For as bad of an idea as it was, it worked out pretty well, tying together a large loop of mostly unpaved rail trail with the kind of grade that suits freewheel-free bikes well.  I even was joined for the whole loop by Tony Cherolis, and partly by Brendan Mahoney for a more sensible portion-of-it.

It rained today.  Then, sometimes, it rained really hard.  This was predicted by the forecast, and I predicted I would enjoy one hundred miles on a fixed gear far less during a down pour, so I found a middle ground on my road-geared single speed mountain bike which has a freewheel for coasting as well as rather more substantial fenders.  I feel I made out well in this trade.

I also feel I made out well on today's ride.  I was just unhooking my bike from the wall when a text arrived from my friend Mary Lynn that, contrary to earlier predictions, yes, she would be running the roughly 5k race in Springfield this morning.  Not wanting to miss the chance to heckle a dear friend for running on pavement, that simplified my decision of which direction to point.  I rode to the riverside in Springfield and only missed Mary Lynn's indicated start time by a half hour, which had missed the actual start time by an additional half hour.  Happily, Mar was running "early", so just made it to the line in time for go, and she was in no rush to depart, so she was still around for some moments of hob-knob when I arrived an hour after the gun, and we were able to spectate some top notch post-race cleanup.

But all the best beneficent blunders must end, so Mary Lynn and I parted ways to the west, she to support Savers thrift store in their not supporting their employees by making them work July 4th, and I to find my second ripe mulberry tree of the day en route to the Farmington Canal patch which carried me along my jaunt from route 57 up to Westfield.  

Rain: great for mulberries, but not as good for photos when I don't want to remove my phone from the clear plastic bag.  Don't worry, the berries were BPA free.

But route 57, that's where it started to rain with no uncertainty, and it's also where I saw two other riders on road bikes bustling along the opposite way.  Then I saw them wave, both.  And they both said, "Hello!"  So there you have it, maybe it isn't question of bipedal versus two pedal transit, but rather a matter of proper irrigation.  Maybe grumpy people just don't bother to go out for activities when it rains, so precipitation acts as a filter to remove everyone except those with a positive outlook on life that can weather a little, well, weather, and still feel joy.  These are the people that wave.  I saw one or two more friendly bikers on my way up the canal trail before zig zagging my way around the most hectic portions of Westfield to the truly sedate offroad roads through Bear Hole and Ashley Reservoir for a wonderful ride, with a complimentary rinsing thrown in at no additional charge!

As the New England saying says, if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes.  Back across the river and rolling past the edge of Mount Holyoke College, I looked down at the crisp shadow I was casting on rapidly drying pavement.  By the time I reached home, with the convective airflow drying, I was at most barely damp and plenty warm to enjoy a post ride dip in Batchelor Brook, with my anatomical rain gauge measuring an impressive, especially for July, areola high!  So, waving hello, maybe it is tied more to weather than sport, and I'm tempted to adapt the earlier mentioned Wallace Stevens line to, "One must have a mind of water," but then everyone would know I just have rain on the brain.