Leah, Delightful post as always. My wife has a gorgeous and under ridden Betty, and yes I steal it occasionally when she's out. Short rides into town or on the fire roads behind our house, cheap thrills
Thanks Mark On Thursday, January 31, 2019 at 4:16:27 PM UTC-8, Bicycle Belle Ding Ding! wrote: > > ***I initially wrote this in a pdf so that the photos would nicely embed. > It was too large to include here, so I’m going the old-fashioned route. If > there’s a better and easier way to view a pdf, let me know.*** > > Today, I planned to meet friends at a coffee shop. On account of it being > cloudy and cool, and a 743 foot climb back home, no one wanted to go by > bike. Except me. > > Now, our destination coffee shop is new and has neither bike rack nor > poles to lock up against. Knowing this, I decided I would ask if I could > park the bike inside. What if they say I can’t bring my bike inside, I > wondered. As I stood in my garage, my gaze fell upon my husband’s > under-utilized Clem H, which happens to fit me fine. Better to take my > husband’s bike so the thieves can’t steal MINE. > > Fortified by that comforting thought, I set to work feminizing his rugged > and bare naked Clem H. First, I strapped on my gray medium Saddlesack, > which has a patch (that I paid to have specially sewn on) of a blue bicycle > with flowers in the baskets. The blue Banana Sax went on the front, and I > loaded it with my essentials. Lastly, I put my pretty purple Hydroflask in > the bottle cage of the French blue Clem (Those colors are lovely together! > I thought to myself). I bade my fluffy dog farewell, and then pointed my > Bosco bars towards the bike path. As the garage door was closing, I was > futzing with my ear buds and SLAM. See, that Clem is loooonnngg, and I had > misjudged the distance of the bike from the garage door as it came down. > Onto the rear tire. Whew, glad that wasn’t my bike, I thought, relieved. I > mounted the bike, and oof, the top tube. That will take some getting used > to; I’ve always suspected I’m a mixte person, and now I know it. I *may* > have accidentally kicked the top tube with my boot. And then we were off! > > I’m used to the ride of a 55 cm Betty Foy, racked and bagged and loaded, > rolling along on fendered 38s. The stolen Clem is a whole different animal. > There were some things to get used to - first off, that sprung Brooks B67 > saddle. I initially thought it was loose, as it seemed to sway beneath me. > No, it’s just hammocky - not like my B17 Select, hard as a wooden church > pew. You know how your own tires and drivetrain sound, and it’s a foreign > feeling to experience them on a different bike. Those big, fat Clem tires > roll along with a hum that, once you’re acquainted with it, is soothing. > When you coast, the drivetrain is silent. I have the clickety click when I > coast on my Betty Foy, and I like it, but now I enjoy this pensive and > peaceful feeling I get from the stolen Clem. > > I rode over desert washes, passed by a golf course, and cruised down near > the country club. They are draining the pond there, and the birds are all > in a panic over it. I looked down at the paved path to see a minefield of > goose droppings. I did not imagine I would wish for fenders today, but here > we are, I thought. I made a mental note to check a mirror for a green > stripe up the back of me. > > The stolen Clem flew down the hills with ease, seeming to really like > stretching its legs. I slowed it down, not trusting it like I do my Betty, > but there was nothing to fear. Riding the Clem was like sailing on a cloud > and being reassured that everything is well and good. It’s a capable bike, > and it tells you that. I don’t know what elven magic is put in there by > Rivendell, but the truth is that bike has a palpable personality. > > We had to stop at lots of intersections and wait for the crosswalk light, > but we made 5.7 miles in 33:57 and beat everyone else to the coffee shop. I > asked the baristas if I could bring in my bike since there was nowhere to > lock up; they looked at me like they didn’t really understand, but they > gave me permission. Relieved that I would have a way to get home after all > (and that my pilfered bike wasn’t going to be pilfered), I sat down and > snapped a photo of the Clem (because it looked so classy sitting in the > coffee shop) and me (because I was wearing my new bicycle scarf, made by my > friend). My friends arrived and laughed that I had dragged my bike into the > shop. > > After coffee, we departed and rode up 743 feet of climbing in 46:48, no > sweat! I parked the Clem in its spot, but left my bags on it, because now > I’m not so ready to call it “his” anymore. We have something special, that > big old Clem and me, and I think we might be going more places together. > > Has anyone else out there been guilty of stealing a Riv? > Cheers! > Leah > > > > > > > > > > > -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "RBW Owners Bunch" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to rbw-owners-bunch+unsubscr...@googlegroups.com. To post to this group, send email to rbw-owners-bunch@googlegroups.com. Visit this group at https://groups.google.com/group/rbw-owners-bunch. For more options, visit https://groups.google.com/d/optout.
