Monday night. Tires are pumped up. Lights are snapped on or strapped on, their batteries charged or charging. Ditto GPS. Wallet, keys and such are stowed in the wedge pack beneath the saddle—except for my phone, which is beside the bed and whose alarm will wake me shortly after four-thirty tomorrow morning if I’m not already awake.
The weather forecast approximates as usual the temperature for tomorrow morning’s ride. The real temperature will vary, not just from the forecast but from one minute to the next. In the winter in the Valley, the stillness of the windless night air causes temperature inversion which in turn creates pockets of cold and warm air dotted around the foothills. Collectively, these temperature differentials make comfortable clothing impossible. Further, the warm air sits atop the cold air, so we sweat up the hills and get blasted with cold on the way down. Nothing can be done but to look forward to spring allergies. And to enjoy having the roads to ourselves in these dark mornings.
From here until monsoon season, it gets warmer.
6 comments:
I love this blog entry. You definitely had me feeling my stomach drop a little as I went flying down a hill on my bike! Thanks for keeping with the writing!! PS - are you ever going to finish your tale about your attempted ride between LA & San Fran??
I too am wondering how that went. Talk about a cliff hanger...
The rest of that trip went well, of course! His bike ride eventually brought him to me in Big Sur and we started dating the next day. We might have started that same day, except that he looked like hell after his crazy bike adventure. The end. :-D
Thanks Laura, but we'd like Craig's version as well.
Rachel— Maybe I will, maybe I will.
Laura— Yep, the story turned out to be a romantic comedy.
Bobby et al.— Grr.
Anonymous— Sorry for leaving you out of the previous comment of replies. Here's your reply:
Grr.
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