the line dance
I went to college (the first time) during the disco era. Everyone was sick with Saturday Night Fever and doin' the Hustle. I...was not. I, when it came to music, was more...the Who, Lynard Skynard, Little Feat, Frank Zappa, the Grateful Dead, Eric Clapton, Talking Heads, ad nauseum. I didn't disco. I didn't know any of the steps, and still don't...and that's OK. One Friday night in those late 70's though, I found myself at a party where the brothers Gibb were stayin' alive on the stereo and a bunch of people were doing that dance thing, flinging each other to and fro. This girl came up to me that I knew...but not very well. She was very hot and she asked me to dance. Overcome with the thought of very hot girl asking me to dance, I said yes without thinking. She led me to the big, cleared out part of the living room where people were dancing, and it hit me. Alarm bells started blaring in my slightly inebriated brain.
"Dude, what the hell are you doing? You got no business being here. You don't know how to do this and are about to make a huge ass of yourself."
I made some feeble excuse, apologized and walked away. Granted, not a proud moment in lumberyard history...one I buried in the deep recesses of my brain.
Saturday morning I drove to the MS150 practice ride, for which the turnout was far larger than I imagined. I figured...25-30 miles. The hard core bike folks won't be there. Way too short for them. Many of the people who need the practice won't be there because they're procrastinating. The remainder would be people like me...curious newbies. I was so wrong. Hundreds of people were there from grizzled veterans to newbies like me, on every manner of two (and I saw one three) wheeled vehicle. Most had done this before, because they wore company jerseys from past MS150 rides. Most also had road bikes much like my new one, but there were mountain bikes, recumbent bikes, and I saw one beach cruiser. Ouch...good luck with that one. There were even a few road bikes built for two.
The start was scary in itself. All these people trying to not run into each other as we headed into the two lane bottleneck of an entrance/exit for the parking lot we were in, getting our feet into pedals and get out on the road. Most had what I later learned (thanks to the bike fitter appointment at noon) are the clipless pedals, that you need special cycling shoes for. I didn't know what they were at the time, but they looked very tiny and weird to me. In any case, you still have to clip into those a lot like the things I slide my feet into, and lots of people doing that together going the same way is a bit intimidating for me...the newbie. I saw one guy fall over when someone in front of him stopped. I managed to get by unscathed. I was, however, intimidated by the whole cluster of bikers trying to get started, and forgot to set the trip odometer, so I had no idea how far it was to the halfway point.
Then we get out on the open road..A1A south along the ocean, which is a pretty ride. Lines start forming at different paces and a little bit down the road I hitch on to the end of one and....nice wind break. I'm actually drafting and life is good. I'm cruising along and the speedometer thing is saying 21.5 miles an hour, and it's hardly any work. WOW! This is so cool!
Then things start happening. The girl in front of me (nice butt) is pointing out sticks and road kill on the side of the road. Nice of her. Then I realize everyone in the line is doing that, and yelling different things...like "SLOWING" when we were coming up on someone slower than us and slowing down a bit. I look behind me and realize I'm not the end of the line anymore. More folks have joined on and I'm now somewhere in the middle, and I'll bet the folks behind me are depending on me to do...well, something like what this girl in front of me is doing, and we're cruisin' pretty fast...and it hits me. I know this feeling and I haven't felt it in a loooong time. Where do I know this from? Ooooh Yeaaah. I remember. I'm waay outa my league and it's Saturday Night Fever all over again.
"Dude, what the hell are you doing? You got no business being here. You don't know how to do this and are about to make a huge ass of yourself."
Unlike Saturday Night Fever though, I hung in there this time, even though I felt like I had "NEWBIE" plastered on my forehead. I mean, I am what I am. I worried less about the nice butt in front of me and more about what was expected from the people behind me. I started learning and doing the hand signal thing, and yelling "SLOWING" when we did. It took a few times to realize they were yelling "CAR BACK" when there was a car coming up behind us, but I finally got that and repeated it like a good lemming. I also learned this line thing has a name. It's called a paceline. (After I got home, I googled 'paceline etiquette' and learned a lot more, so if you're interested, you can do the same. I won't repeat all that here.)
I hung with these people for about 10 miles, and then, as quickly as this big line formed, it dispersed. One group took off faster and the rest sort of disintegrated, and I found myself by myself for the last part of the ride to the gas station that was the halfway point/rest stop. I got there, and most of those people knew each other, and were talking..catching up since last year maybe. I needed to get going, because after the ride I had other places to be. I remembered to set the odometer for the trip back (so I know it was a little over 14 miles each way), and set out alone.
I rode back by myself, which was OK. It was much slower going because it was into the wind, and it all seemed to be slightly uphill. I got passed by two pairs of riders, but that was it. The long fast line never caught up with me. The biggest surprise to me was that I was, and stayed, ahead of the main body of riders. There were speed demons well ahead of me too, but most of the folks were behind. In fact, I got back, got in the car and headed back to A1A on my way home. As I traveled south on A1A, I saw the huge body of riders traveling north, finishing their ride.
Overall....huge learning experience that I will probably expound on more later. I did walk away thinking...I need to learn more about this group riding thing before I attempt that again...and like I said, I googled and have been asking more questions of people who've done this before. I'm working on it.
"Dude, what the hell are you doing? You got no business being here. You don't know how to do this and are about to make a huge ass of yourself."
I made some feeble excuse, apologized and walked away. Granted, not a proud moment in lumberyard history...one I buried in the deep recesses of my brain.
Saturday morning I drove to the MS150 practice ride, for which the turnout was far larger than I imagined. I figured...25-30 miles. The hard core bike folks won't be there. Way too short for them. Many of the people who need the practice won't be there because they're procrastinating. The remainder would be people like me...curious newbies. I was so wrong. Hundreds of people were there from grizzled veterans to newbies like me, on every manner of two (and I saw one three) wheeled vehicle. Most had done this before, because they wore company jerseys from past MS150 rides. Most also had road bikes much like my new one, but there were mountain bikes, recumbent bikes, and I saw one beach cruiser. Ouch...good luck with that one. There were even a few road bikes built for two.
The start was scary in itself. All these people trying to not run into each other as we headed into the two lane bottleneck of an entrance/exit for the parking lot we were in, getting our feet into pedals and get out on the road. Most had what I later learned (thanks to the bike fitter appointment at noon) are the clipless pedals, that you need special cycling shoes for. I didn't know what they were at the time, but they looked very tiny and weird to me. In any case, you still have to clip into those a lot like the things I slide my feet into, and lots of people doing that together going the same way is a bit intimidating for me...the newbie. I saw one guy fall over when someone in front of him stopped. I managed to get by unscathed. I was, however, intimidated by the whole cluster of bikers trying to get started, and forgot to set the trip odometer, so I had no idea how far it was to the halfway point.
Then we get out on the open road..A1A south along the ocean, which is a pretty ride. Lines start forming at different paces and a little bit down the road I hitch on to the end of one and....nice wind break. I'm actually drafting and life is good. I'm cruising along and the speedometer thing is saying 21.5 miles an hour, and it's hardly any work. WOW! This is so cool!
Then things start happening. The girl in front of me (nice butt) is pointing out sticks and road kill on the side of the road. Nice of her. Then I realize everyone in the line is doing that, and yelling different things...like "SLOWING" when we were coming up on someone slower than us and slowing down a bit. I look behind me and realize I'm not the end of the line anymore. More folks have joined on and I'm now somewhere in the middle, and I'll bet the folks behind me are depending on me to do...well, something like what this girl in front of me is doing, and we're cruisin' pretty fast...and it hits me. I know this feeling and I haven't felt it in a loooong time. Where do I know this from? Ooooh Yeaaah. I remember. I'm waay outa my league and it's Saturday Night Fever all over again.
"Dude, what the hell are you doing? You got no business being here. You don't know how to do this and are about to make a huge ass of yourself."
Unlike Saturday Night Fever though, I hung in there this time, even though I felt like I had "NEWBIE" plastered on my forehead. I mean, I am what I am. I worried less about the nice butt in front of me and more about what was expected from the people behind me. I started learning and doing the hand signal thing, and yelling "SLOWING" when we did. It took a few times to realize they were yelling "CAR BACK" when there was a car coming up behind us, but I finally got that and repeated it like a good lemming. I also learned this line thing has a name. It's called a paceline. (After I got home, I googled 'paceline etiquette' and learned a lot more, so if you're interested, you can do the same. I won't repeat all that here.)
I hung with these people for about 10 miles, and then, as quickly as this big line formed, it dispersed. One group took off faster and the rest sort of disintegrated, and I found myself by myself for the last part of the ride to the gas station that was the halfway point/rest stop. I got there, and most of those people knew each other, and were talking..catching up since last year maybe. I needed to get going, because after the ride I had other places to be. I remembered to set the odometer for the trip back (so I know it was a little over 14 miles each way), and set out alone.
I rode back by myself, which was OK. It was much slower going because it was into the wind, and it all seemed to be slightly uphill. I got passed by two pairs of riders, but that was it. The long fast line never caught up with me. The biggest surprise to me was that I was, and stayed, ahead of the main body of riders. There were speed demons well ahead of me too, but most of the folks were behind. In fact, I got back, got in the car and headed back to A1A on my way home. As I traveled south on A1A, I saw the huge body of riders traveling north, finishing their ride.
Overall....huge learning experience that I will probably expound on more later. I did walk away thinking...I need to learn more about this group riding thing before I attempt that again...and like I said, I googled and have been asking more questions of people who've done this before. I'm working on it.
Labels: It's all about me
John put this out here at 7:16 AM
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