And then I got a call. From Geoff, at Two Wheel Transit. My new bike had not only arrived, but had been built up and was ready to be united with me. This very afternoon! Bejeezuz, what to do.
Deliberations really didn't last that long: No other choice than to skim a few more minutes off my workday, pick up the bike, and still arrive at the pump sesh on time. Thing is, the last item on the day's calendar was Skilly's meeting, and I did show up, and I cared (truly), and I wanted to see it through, but the long-winded dude just kept going. On and on and on. Meanwhile, my new bike was calling, no screaming, "COME AND GET ME!!!" I finally succumbed and bailed.
I did pick up the bike and it's badass. It deserve's it's own post, which it shall have. Or four. It's that badass.
And we did finally assemble trackside. I bugled, via text, some of the regulars and John was also able to join us. A-Wat, Skilly, Jason, John, and me were the cast that settled out, then. Game on.
|Jason took to the track like a fish to water.|
You know how John's been talking about how his career transition has been messing with his head? Apparently he brought his aura with him. Check out the pic below, if you don't believe me.
|Seriously though, despite being "mentally consumed" or whatever he's calling it,|
he was the fastest on the track. By far. Mentally consumed, my ass.
Skilly finally ended his long-winded meeting and showed up, ready to ride. Check out the supreme concentration. Awesome.
Somehow I missed getting any pictures of A-Wat, who as-of-late is sporting stitches in his forehead from his over-the-bars meeting with mother earth. He pretty much came out of nowhere to tear up the track with his rad ax and then as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone.
Meanwhile, Jason was about to win the award for best crash of the sesh. See how his front tire is riding right on top of the berm? That's not such a good thing, when you're trying to generate sideways force. He and the stump ended up getting better acquainted and we shall leave it at that.
I totally love this next pic. That's Jason's son, Aiden, on the stump. Digging the ol' man, doing rad things on a bike. Poor kid doesn't stand a chance . . . at 2-1/2, I'm afraid it's too late. This and probably many other similar images that Jason's exposed him to are burned into his psyche and he's doomed to live life as a bike nerd.
Other than that, it feels like Christmas. The only thing that could possibly make it more so would be an actual fire in the fireplace.
|No bike should have to spend its first night at home in the basement, or the garage.|
And since I'm gonna spend all night looking at it anyway, why should I be in the basement, or the garage.