Oh, see pee thrice

 Yesterday was the d2r2 Deerfield Dirt Road Randonee, and if you scan carefully, you'll note a complete lack of the word gravel, a horrible surface which is primarily good for railroad tracks and bicycle industry marketing. Now dirt, I've known since my early riding days that surface is shear bliss.

Yesterday was the ride which means I first heard about it two days ago when checking if I could con anyone into a two day hike with an overnight in a sleeping bag. One friend replied with potential interest, but was already committed to helping with the double d, double r.

Oh, hey, I know that ride, even know the original creator, and more importantly, know an old friend in CT, who has known the original creator even longer, and makes a yearly pilgrimage north to roll his wheels around some western Mass dirt. That friend also lives in my hometown and was frequently my riding buddy when joy and good conversation were more important than mind numbing speed, and seriously, when isn't that the case?  That friend is Peter Waite, a bloke I'm damn fortunate to know.

So yes, Peter was riding d2r2, and as a sizeable bonus, he'd already arranged to pedal with Bruce Miller, another gem of a human being, and they were joined by Dave, a former bike racing official who began our meeting yesterday with a tremendously heartening tale of remembering me fondly from my earlier bike racing days.  As an extra, extra bonus, I was the youngest rider of the bunch, and it's an increasingly rare treat for me to act as the snot-nosed kid of an athletic group.

It was a lovely reunion for a lovely ride on a lovely day, even if I did have to make the suggestion of migrating into the sun to avoid shivering through the lunch stop. Bikes are special and they often attract some special people. I'm quite fortunate.

And yes, as a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure I did pee exactly three times during the ride, but who's counting?