Girls on Bikes

The cool front was just coming through this morning when I headed out to the Lakefront for the Saturday Giro Ride, so as usual I had a nice Northwest wind to contend with. The temperatures hadn't really dropped very much, and the full force of the winds was buffered considerably by the houses and trees as I rode through the city, so it wasn't really an issue. In the back of my mind, though, I knew we would have to deal with it during the Giro Ride, which meant that there would be stretches of 31 mph tailwinds contrasted with 19 mph slogs into headwinds.

I hit the lakefront right on time and rode slowly to the East watching the waves in the lake. The winds hadn't yet reached their maximum, and the skies were still overcast, but I was expecting it to clear up quickly. I was wrong. As it turned out the skies stayed cloudy throughout, and didn't clear up until later in the day.

As usual, I met the Giro Ride on its way out on Lakeshore Drive and made a U-turn to join the group. After a while I looked around and was happy to see at least three girls on the ride! Now, before you get all bent out of shape, let me clarify. Here in New Orleans, women are always referred to as girls, regardless of age or social status, unless they're really ugly in which case we elect them to office. I don't know exactly what it is, but the ride is always more interesting when it's not all guys. Maybe it's just me? So anyway, there was one girl from Biloxi who is in the Air Force, and as usual I didn't get her name, but she and Rosanne were in the mix for the whole ride, except I guess the very end after we kind of sprinted up the last bridge. There was also a guy from Houston wearing the required white shoe-covers. I think there must be some kind of law in Houston about having to wear shoe covers, preferably white, on all bicycle rides. Anyway, I think I got his name, but as usual promptly forgot it. He was one of the guys pushing the pace today. The ride itself was fairly fast all the way out to the turnaround at Venetian Isles, thanks in part to some nice tailwind sections. That's when things got kind of broken up.

Just after the turnaround I was up near the front while the rest of the group was still separated and disorganized and was talking with Rusty and Rosanne when we heard a little commotion behind us. It didn't seem serious and so we continued to roll along at an easy pace. I reached down to try and pick up a knife that was in the road, but came up empty handed with a little cut on my finger. Picking up knives while riding can be hazardous, plus, as Rusty quickly pointed out, now my blood is on the murder weapon.

After a while I looked back and there was nobody to be seen. It turned out that a couple of the guys hadn't been paying attention and had collided with each other at a slow rate of speed, which wouldn't have been a problem except that when one of them fell he broke one of his saddle rails or something (never really got the whole story). So it wasn't until we were back on the service road before part of the group caught us. I think there was yet another group behind them, but I never saw it. This whole time the wind was picking up and by the time we were back on Lakeshore Drive, it was pretty significant. I was glad to be able to ease up a bit on Lakeshore Drive, although to be honest we didn't ease up quite as much as usual for some reason. I think the Houston guy didn't know the routine, and nobody wanted to admit that we usually ride back more slowly. Anyway, I had a nice tailwind for the ride back home, passing one of the many out-of-town church groups that was out helping clean up hurricane damaged properties, after which I had to drive up to Baton Rouge to visit The Wife's mother. Geez, that place is depressing. There's one women who makes singing noises all the time. I mean, ALL the time. Nonstop - 24/7. Couldn't stop if she wanted to, I guess. There's another who keeps running into people and objects, apparently intentionally, with her wheelchair, and there's one who sits in a wheelchair and periodically cries. The rest sit around in front of a huge television set and when they're not asleep, appear to be having conversations with each other, except that when you actually listen you realize that they are talking about completely different things. Anyway, the only exciting part of that whole trip was coming back on I-10 where the slowest safe speed is 10 mph over the limit and you can expect to have someone on your bumper most of the time if that's the best you're willing to do. As if they have someplace important to be.