One singe, one Spot, and one gear

For full disclosure: B rode out to Shingle Springs to pick up his car before driving up to the Knott Lott and thus earned the longrider laurels.

A dour mood prevailed on the drive up as B lamented the prospect of having to replace the engine of a car he had purchased a few months ago. Spirits lifted when we pulled in to the Knott Lott and saw Bambi flying the FT3 flag. He made the offering to celebrate selling his Specialized frame. The next half hour was spent inspecting B's car and trying to draw down the 12 pack. After circling, waiting for a rideleader to emerge, B took the front and headed out the back.

We dropped B's chin. Bambi put the pressure on, and when B had to slow up a bit Bambi was forced to come into contact with B's "squishy" backside. Rolling the brief section of flat, I was reminded that I rode the only geared bike. And the tempo of the evening was established: B charged the climbs, Bambi bombed the descents, and we rested on the flats. Since we carefully avoided flat sections the pace rarely let up.

Twice we climbed to MET and dropped trails around the dam. The descent routes are rare selections from the FT3 lexicon, and new to me; especially the trail that dropped straight cross country down, and the one that had us shoulder our bikes and shimmy along a narrow band of concrete over the dam spillway. We climbed lower Palin's and started a Fleming CCW loop. At this time I matched my cadence to Bambi's and resolved to hold that gear for the rest of the night (I couldn't). At the top of the climb (PBR Point) we shared a carried can, and mounted our lights. As I threw caution to the wind and tried to keep up with Bambi on the descent, the slightest bit of dust shimmered in my lights. Woe to the rider that misses these glorious spring rides, summer will be a smokescreen.

We dropped 8B. About 2/3 down B slowed and stopped, as I rolled behind him he announced a flat. We hollered to Bambi, but he was undoubtedly already at the bottom. So we undertook the alligator wrestling like task of removing changing the GEAX. And when the replacement tube didn't hold air, we did it again. About the time we gave up pumping the first tube, Bambi rolled up (and thus I got stuck being the evening's shortrider). While he wouldn't share his spare tube, he did hare all sorts of criticism of B's tube patching technique. Back up 8B around to the top of 8A.

B: Does anyone need to get back?
Bambi: I wouldn't complain if we went back, I got to get up early.
B: So, do you want to go back?
Bambi: I don't care.
B: If no one tells me to go back we're riding 8A.

And so we did.

Finished the Fleming loop dropped the top of Palin's and back to the Knott Lott for postBRs.

We were just getting on our bikes when Mother Rye poked her head over the fence and shouted, "Are you guys coming for tacos or what? Courtney's closing up in ten minutes."
We were sorely chided for our ten o clock arrival, though it was difficult to separate the lecturing tone from the smiling face. After a ravenous taco session, we lingered. B was waiting for his driver to yell at him to hurry up, its time to go. Eventually he realized that he was driving and we headed out.