A Loss of Paul Functioning

Adhering to the dictates of Cappy's Quit Dawdling! Campaign, the shuttle appeared in Camino, once again, before 6. And when Our Dear Rideleader arrived at the Knott Lott on steed, everyone rushed to finish their final ride preparations. Lars announced some breaking news: an FT3-kitted rider was captured on camera by TV news reporters covering the Placerville Courthouse. The identity of the rider has not been determined, though it was alleged that he blew a stop sign.

We rolled past the EID entry gate without stating our names or intended route. Up past the Qualifier single track mini descent to the trail that parallels Sly Park Road to Park Creek Road, where (and now my memory gets hazy) we dropped the latest new trail the Fire Line to the Qualifier, back up and over the knob above Park Creek Road and somewhere in there we encountered an active log landing.

 Then down the Chopping Block (which was a big crowd pleaser), along the flume and up the steep road back to Park Creek.

Down the Power Line trail, kicking the merest cloud of dust.  As we rolled towards Sly Park Road, a few lights began to shine.

 

  And we reached a cross roads. Our Dear Rideleader had to depart. Subsequently, Bambi announced that he was sick and had to short ride. Xteric took hold of the rideleader reigns and took the qualifier downhill to give Bambi an expedited route to his car. When we turned up the short piece of singletrack to get to the entrance station, NoHandle's hub crunched a final protest and then failed. He turned his pedals, but the wheel didn't spin. Whether it was the fault of grime from riding through winter rains: http://fattiretacotuesday.blogspot.com/2012/03/find-your-fender.html

or some other mechanical stress on the pawls:

 http://fattiretacotuesday.blogspot.com/2011/04/b-haul.html

we now had an official mechanical on our hands, and lacking a spare wheel we concluded the night's outing. Nobody felt shortrided, nor was anyone near their exercise threshold.

The taco staff was delighted by our early arrival. The top shelf sauces were handed down, rye pours were extra fat, the taco meat and shells above average and the bouffant reached new levels of artistic expression. To end the dinner, Mother Rye announced that one taco was left. Citing relevant by-laws, B said that he would like to eat that taco, but was forbidden from ordering only one. Like the miracle of the loaves and fishes, Mother Rye managed to transform the single taco into two.  

Many important matters were discussed at the taco table. The report from the recent Long Ride Productions meeting determined that a Kwalifier ride will be knocked out within weeks. Most importantly, throw out available dates if you want to be a part of this season's marquee ride: Mt. Rose to Kyburz with a planted camp site. 

Given the early hour, a small contingency continued to Powells, causing this ride reporter to undertake the Camino climb twice in one day (although it is open for debate if it was twice on Tuesday or twice on wednesday).

Are you feeling pithy?

ONE!

Revenge of the Millipede

Making good on his declaration for improved punctuality, Cappy was at the Mosq Lot at 5:30, sending out texts to whip everyone out the door. NoHandle was kitted and waiting in the Knott Lott, and Xteric was right on our heels. Ever the pioneer of the next trend, Xteric rolled up in his new fuel sipping economy car. Soon all of El Dorado will be trading in their trucks.
We wasted no time preparing for the mild evening, and as soon as everyone was nearly ready THTH called Rideleader. He did acknowledge that if Our Dear Rideleader were to show up then he would defer. However, chances are better that Peter himself would want to be Rideleader, so it was a moot point.
Note the summery kits at roll out.
Out the backdoor to the first dam horse trail, then on to Fleming
NoHandle settled into his distinct Rideleader style: keeping tabs on the followers and announcing the next few turns ahead of time. This allowed Cappy to f'ing charge off the front. While everyone savored riding the conditions, Cappy was lapping it up like a dog with a can of bacon grease.
When we turned down 8A, a fat stick wrenched Xteric's derailleur out of line. Fortunately, derailleurs aren't finicky little bitties like chain tensioners, and he was quickly back on track. By the time we started the climb out, it was lights on.
And with the darkness a curious phenomenon. Millipedes began shuffling out of the duff in droves. Perhaps they are a sensitive indicator. On the first perfect spring night, when trail conditions are tacky enough to rip a tire from a rim, out come the millipedes, filled with their dark intentions.
Eager to bag all the classics, we climbed Redneck and headed for the Lip. Now Cappy was railing off the front on the climbs and descents. He sped down the lip and I pushed the envelope trying to keep up. As we whipped through the switchbacks I heard a guttural howl and saw his lights flip about and stop. Cappy had taken a corner hot and slipped on a millipede. We found him clutching his knee and rocking in pain. After a time, he managed to get back on his bike and we rolled back to the Knott Lott. The whole way back Cappy grimly noted the millipedes that dotted the road.
Given the early return we had enjoyed post-BRs. Inside, four of us dug into quality tacos complimented by Top Shelf sauce offerings from Cappy, while he made his way to the bathroom. His golden boy halo was tarnished, as Mother Rye didn't offer him carte blanche use of the first aid kit like she had for B. Instead she selected individual items for him, like the scissors.