Three riders met in the Mosquito Lot, already kitted, and ride ready. Each was riding their "fun" bike, Cap'n on his SS, B with his belt drive, and Nocar on his crosser. After a quick round of high quality hydration, we departed with Lights Off. We paraded through downtown, delighting FT3 spotters on the sidewalks and headed for the first steep Cribbs rd. I immediately lost my bearings. We climbed high enough to encounter meager snow patches and plunged what was a technical ascent last steeps tour. Cap'n displayed his abundant secret trail knowledge, leading us on steep mixed surface roads all over Texas Hill.
The locals who inhabit these tucked away corners have strange customs. One sign read, "Blind Dog, Drive slow and honk" (we did neither)
When exploring a new connector between Newtown and the El Dorado Trail we mistakenly rolled up someone's driveway. Tucked in the trees were a pair of spaceships (burning man hover cars?). They appeared in good condition.
Cap'n promptly ordered a retreat before B got up the nerve to start one.
From there it was a little climb to the the El Dorado trail and a frigid roll into town. Cap'n, fearing the onset of hypothermia, turned for home and his fire place. We debated how far the temperature had plunged below freezing, only to see 42 displayed on the bank thermometer. Must be heat island effect.
B and nocar continued to Powell's. We were graciously invited to bring our bikes inside, and to place a taco order as they had kept the kitchen open for us. (No doubt expecting a large turnout, as FT3 is rumored to do.) We enjoyed grilled fish and pork tacos, and picked from a variety of fine beers. The tab, of course, reflected our indulgences.