(Wet) Season Opener . . .

While it wasn't the first rain of the season, you could say it was the first FT3 in the rain for the fall season last Tuesday night. As another noted blogger astutely observed, Providence, it seems, held back the precipitation to coincide with the most important event of the week, beginning with the lightest of mist and increasing almost imperceptibly throughout the evening until our return to the lot, at which point it had become a definite wetness descending from the troposphere.

After a failed Mosquito meet-up, there were once again, shamefully, nearly as many motor vehicles as riders in the Knott lot. Spawn, at least, saw fit to ride to the venue under his own power. We were all glad to see Cappy, as he'd been experiencing some distress in his evacuative mechanism and wasn't sure if a ride was in the cards. P.C. passed out not-quite-expired Mojo bars as riders swapped bull and zipped up layers in anticipation of the evening's uncertain weather conditions. Proudly flaunting his 20 year-old purple-paneled leggings ("leotard"), Buttons lamented some serious brake rub he was having in the rear. Darn it if Newb didn't give it a good go and try to rectify the situation right there in the lot, but it was nothing a 5mm hex could fix, anyway. Nohandle waited patiently for the festivities to begin. Soon enough, under Newb's capable leadership, we were off . . .

It weren't about 5 minutes into the ride before riders were stopping to peel off layers in attempt to adapt to the somewhat wet but not yet rainy, kinda cool but not yet cold conditions. Newb, single gearing for the occasion, went so far as to strip down to his shirt-sleeves ("wife-beater"), drawing admiration from the crew.

We tasted some of the last dust of the year going down Naptime. We squirmed and grunted up freshly slickened climbs. We stopped, removed layers, rode, stopped, added them again. Ride leader reliably enforced the three minute rule at all such delays. We even got separated at one point: Newb, Spawn, and Nohandle took the left fork unbeknownst to Cappy, P.C. and Buttons, who continued descending on the right fork of the trail. Not to worry though, dear reader, the six were shortly after reunited at the top of the hill when good logic and group problem-solving saved the day.

What route did the group take as ride leadership threaded together trail after sweet trail? Well, you weren't there, were you, so it appears you'll never know. Unless you were there, in which case you don't need me to tell you. Guess you'll just have to find out for yourself next FT3.