Leah, that ride sounds lit! The leader guy sounds like a total Chad and I bet the soundtracked slapped! Clearly you have the rizz of a sigma. And your bike is an absolute unit! Skibidi! On Aug 8, 2024, at 13:01, George Schick <bhim...@gmail.com> wrote:
@steve - yes, that's true. But not everyone gets on board to changed definitions and meanings simultaneously. Therefore, things can be taken the wrong way by some who haven't caught up with the latest and greatest blog-a-sphere use of a word or phrase. Take "sick" for example. Not that many years ago calling something sick would imply that it was ugly or impaired. Now it can apparently be used to mean what used to be called "cool" or the like. Anyway a good example of a crash and burn blog thread that centered around the use and definition of the term "fred" occurred on this blog about 8 years ago and subsequently led to the departure of a frequent poster. So you can see where something can lead, not necessarily intentionally. https://groups.google.com/g/rbw-owners-bunch/c/I2rXHQqICOc/m/auRAmy3bDQAJ
On Thursday, August 8, 2024 at 2:44:44 PM UTC-5 steve...@gmail.com wrote:
Linguistic scholars recognize that the meanings associated with words often evolve over time, with the changes being driven by culture. Leah, as far as I'm concerned, you have nudged the definition of "wilding" toward a new meaning.
I say, right on, far out and totally cool, it's time to get down and dirty with some righteous WILDING !!! On Thursday, August 8, 2024 at 1:51:35 PM UTC-4 George Schick wrote:
A year or two ago there was a thread involving the problems associated with the placement of a long wheel based bikes on the front of urban buses. Joe chimed in to offer his expertise on the discussion because he is a city bus driver (not sure which city). So I posted a reply intending to be humorous, asking him if it would be OK if I referred to him as Ralph Kramden, a character in an old 1950's comedy series in which Jackie Gleason played the part of a NYC bus driver in the sitcom. He got the spirit of that label right away and said it would be fine with him. So I use it whenever it seems appropriate in a blog thread.
On Thursday, August 8, 2024 at 12:33:11 PM UTC-5 Bicycle Belle Ding Ding! wrote:
Did you just call him Ralph Kramden? I had to look that up, but seems mean-spirited. Well, you have to look at yourself in the mirror every day and live with that, George. If I’m misunderstanding , I apologize. Leah I'm not surprised to see an affirmation from Ralph Kramden. I was only trying to advise caution because some people may get the wrong impression by the use of that term.
On Thursday, August 8, 2024 at 12:09:13 PM UTC-5 Joe Bernard wrote:
Leah if you want to go on a violent rampage I say party on, sister. Who am I to judge??! 🤷
On Thursday, August 8, 2024 at 9:42:31 AM UTC-7 Bicycle Belle Ding Ding! wrote:
That cut off. It was supposed to say, It’s the only wilding I’ve ever done in my life, let me have this! Oh George, you just let me live! It’s all the more
Umm...I don't think I'd refer to it as a "wilding" if I were you. Here is the standard definition for that term: The Urban Dictionary is even more explicit.
On Thursday, August 8, 2024 at 10:10:59 AM UTC-5 Bicycle Belle Ding Ding! wrote:
I did it again. I went to that crazy Wed night Grand Rapids ride. From now on I’m calling it “wilding.” As in, “I am going wilding! See you way past bedtime!” I think that’s a real term, I might be misappropriating it, but it sounds fantastic and suits my purposes.
I arrive at the city park a little early and watch the crowd roll up. The wheelie crowd is right on time, careening around on rear wheels and making everyone nervous. A wide variety of bikes are in attendance. We have a massive turnout, 121 riders, just awesome to behold. J is leading, and he brings this:
You can see here that cleanliness is very important to him, and that he does mostly tame rides and so we would have nothing to fear since he planned tonight’s route.
Here is my bike, demure and innocent, having its first adventures amongst all these GR rabble rousers.
It is 8:30pm. We set off and a new group makes its appearance. I call them The Jumpers. They have full suspension bikes with names like Salsa on them and when we go up a ramp, they ride up the stairs. They fly off ledges and drop back into the group and scare this nurse half to death. They launch their bikes and sashay through the air and hope everyone is watching. The Jumpers are wilding the hardest.
I quickly realize that the middle-back is the place to be. Away from The Kids and The Jumpers. I want to ride by J, but I also want to go home by private vehicle, not ambulance.
We block intersections and ride through red lights; drivers submit to all of this. No honking or threatening behavior. Just tolerance for 121 bikes and riders wending through their streets. We ride through neighborhoods (only one crash!), and then along the aptly-named Grand River. Everyone stares at us, a massive clot of bikes, moving along the path. We get to a pavilion where everyone chats in a haze of pot smoke and beer drinking. I drink my usual electrolyte water; I need my wits about me. Three men come to ogle my Platypus. They are into all the custom colored bits. One of them is Velocity USA’s anodizer; here is the man who anodized my rims! It turns out, he is my bike twin. I am jealous of the blue metal flake in his purple paint job. I didn’t think someone could out-sparkle me, but he’s done it.
Isn’t it scary how much we have in common?
At 10pm, good and dark out, we set off. Here was the description of the ride: “…We‘ll head back to the Monarch via a less level and less paved route, so if you’re heading back with us, bring some tires!”
WHAT COULD GO WRONG.
It is the black of night. We are in the middle of nowhere. There are animals in the woods. We are behind a factory of some kind. The parking lot is dirt and full of pot holes. Now there is no road, no buildings. We are in the woods, riding over tall grass. We can see a few feet in front of us, we cannot see the ground through the grass. I am praying not to land in a hole. Now we are in sandy soil, with deep ruts in it. I am thanking my lucky stars that I went with 48mm Gravel Kings. The group is beginning to split as different people set different paces for this terrain. Now we are in rocky dirt with tall grass and brush growing up through it. We are forced to dismount at times, squeeze through narrow spaces. We must lift our bikes up and over obstacles, hoping not to get hit from behind by other riders in the dark. I wonder how many ticks we have, and if I will get my first taste of poison ivy. But, I can’t worry about that now because I have to make it out of here alive first.
I end up at the front of my section. The riders directly behind me have no lights. We are counting on me, and my headlight is pointed too far down and I can’t lift it because it’s screwed tight. So we don’t have a lot of forward visibility. I see something in the dark. The ground starts to drop. “STOP STOP STOP! GET OFF YOUR BIKES!” I yell. Everyone behind me echoes this and I turn on my iPhone flashlight for better viewing. There is a pit just ahead, and an inches-wide beam we are going to have to traverse to get across. I can’t believe it.
To my left is one 6-8inch wide beam that stretches across a yawning pit. There is another to my right. We are high up enough that there are tree branches reaching across the way. We will use both beams to move everyone across. I have to lift my bike up onto the beam, step up and begin to inch across. The woman behind me lets forth a stream of cuss words. I can hear another woman who is protesting. We don’t have any choice but to traverse that wood. I resign myself to it, and I lift my Platypus and balance it on the beam. Like Simone Biles! Ok, fine, not Simone Biles. Looking for security, I grab for the branches as I wheel my bike by. If my bike goes over the edge, I’ll never get it out, I think. If I go over the edge, I’m also never getting out. A man is waiting on the far side. “You can do it! You’ve got the Platypus!” he calls. And I do it. Some men coax the riders behind me over the beam and we are on our way again.
The rest of the ride was tame in comparison. It ended at their watering hole and I pealed off for the park, where my truck was. I was nervous riding alone at 11 pm in downtown but after what I’d just survived, it didn’t seem so scary. I rode those 2 miles, wrestled the bike into the back of the Telluride, and made it home at midnight.
I don’t know why I do these rides - I’m terrified most of the time. But I will probably go back next week. It’s a good story, if nothing else. 🙃
Leah
Love that your teenagers waited up for you, and that you would ground them. Sounds like a fun ride!
On Friday, August 2, 2024 at 1:58:44 PM UTC-4 Bicycle Belle Ding Ding! wrote:
Bill, you get me. Come to the east Michigan ride and we’ll both be tipsy on life in The Shire!
"I was stone-cold sober"
I believe that she means that she didn't partake in any of the party-lubricants. Still, Leah's brand of joie de vivre will never qualify in my book as stone-cold sober. Tipsy on life is closer. BL in EC P.S. APPROVE On Thursday, August 1, 2024 at 3:41:10 PM UTC-7 Bicycle Belle Ding Ding! wrote:
I have long wished to do the Grand Rapids Wednesday Evening Ride. My Riv buddy, J, co-leads it, and the routes are ever-changing and FUN. Maybe you storm the castle. Maybe you end up in a river. Wind up in a kickball tournament. It isn’t convenient - it’s an hour’s drive, and starts after 8pm. A ride that starts after 8!!! On a Wednesday! But those GR folks know how to do it.
Last night, I made it. Beginning in the heart of GR, we would ride a 16 mi route in urban and rural landscapes. A variety of bikes were represented; cobbled-together builds, vintage bikes, bikepacking and touring bikes, fixies, hybrids, whatever those bikes are that you ride on the rear wheel, and one Platypus. Not represented: high-tech carbon fiber/time trial bikes with roadies astride them. The reason would soon become apparent.
We set off. Bikes were all over the road. “The kids”, a group of teens who ride their rear wheels set themselves up as “blockers” so we could move through intersections. The drivers seemed unbothered. J said, “Leah, I forgot to tell you we are going to blow red lights. The police prefer we do so we stay in one group.” The ride has been going for 20 years, so I guess the drivers expect this. I did as I was told, casting nervous glances over my shoulder at J.
![image0.jpeg]()
Most of my miles come from club rides. Club rides prize order, communication, pace, predictability. This ride was a free-for-all. Jubilant and raucous. Music blared from speakers strapped to frames. People sipped beer. The scent of weed hung in the air. The Kids zipped about on one wheel. We had two crashes in the first 20 minutes. I vacillated between having fun and feeling terrified.
One minute we were in the city, the next we were in the woods on a paved trail, bodies of water surrounding us. The sounds of the creatures in the woods were as loud as the music on the bikes. We sailed over bridges, veered off onto gravel, our giant band of bikes wending its way along the route. It was gorgeous.
![image1.jpeg]()
We stopped at a giant pavilion, strung with outdoor lights, and rabblerousing ensued. People laughed and visited, music played, fireflies flickered overhead. At nearly 10 pm, in the pitch black of night, they mounted their bikes, got back on the trail and planned to end at a bar.
![image2.jpeg]()
The woods felt like they were closing in on us. Like that scene in The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. It was THRILLING, and I smiled to myself in the dark. Suddenly there was yelling at the front and SLOWING….I couldn’t make out the word at first. SKUNK!!! An actual skunk was running along the path. We dared not pass him for fear of smelling more like skunk than the weed smoke had already done to us.
I skipped the bar; J rode me to my truck and helped me load my Platypus. The Platypus was perfect for this; chunky tires and compact size, front and rear dyno lights, resplendent in color and quite the conversation starter.
![image4.jpeg]()
I got home at midnight; my teenagers were waiting up for me. If they had walked in the door smelling like I did, I’d have grounded them on the spot.
10/10 would do again.
Note: I was stone-cold sober, putting TWO electrolyte tabs in my water was as wild as I got. Lest you think poorly of me. 😊 People here are always posting about their “ride reports.” Something enchanting in some far away place with photos that pose the bike JUST SO…
But yesterday I went wilding and I’m going to give you a DIFFERENT kind of Ride Report.
In the next post, though, because you know how I do it…
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