Today's ride was simply soul stimulating. The weather lived up to all expectations. The skies were clear blue, the sun heated the landscape to a perfect 73 degrees and there was virtually no wind to speak of. It was the ultimate in bicycling comfort. The Flanders Fat Cat tried desperately, via land lines, airwaves, spider webs and other media, to free his comrades from their slavery to the man, their worship of the almighty dollar and their lawn and landscape idolatry. In the end good old Lord MonkeyButt was the only true visionary to Join The Fat Cat in recognizing the cosmic forces converging on the mountain.We blasted up the first/worst part of Mud Pike, drunk with the power of our bare legs. A nice pace was kept up through the rest of the climb but in a silent accord, both riders stayed together and crested the summit side by side. The time, 32min on the nose, was decent for having eased up for half the ascent. That cut 5 minutes off the gap between The Cat and The Aerobinator. Look out you genetic mutant, The Cat's comin for ya!
Lord MonkeyButt was feeling frisky all across Skyline. Alot of pushing and pouncing got the training portion out of the way by the Summit Golf Course and the touring portion was a go.
The rest of the ride was nothing less than euphoric. At the risk of sounding repetitive, no high priced tour could match what we've got right here in our own back yard. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves
Wine bottles and wirey bikes at the top of Fayette springs road.
Lord MonkeyButt having maybe tasted one two many samples at Cristian Clay Winery
Rick uses "more power" to sculpt oaks into osprey.
Looks inviting but beware!
Climbing historic Kentuck Knob, blissfully unaware.
The Fat Cat just before a politely rude old troll popped out of Frank LLoyd Wright's creation. "You're welcome to leave now," she told us. She obviously had no affinity for wandering cyclists crashing her tightly run tour. She tossed out a couple more of these sugary snide bon mots as we mounted our steeds. Lord Monkey but was sternly admonished to please stop taking pictures as it is not allowed. Think Nancy Pelosi if you're a republican or Nancy Reagan if you're a democrat.
The Firefly Grill in Ohiopyle Pa provided a cornucopia of cyclist friendly fare. The turkey chiabatas proved excellent fuel for the super steep climb back out of the river canyon. On that climb we were turning the cranks over only one time every 2 seconds for a good chunk of time. But, suprisingly, it felt great.
MonkeyButt, thinking about his thumb and pickup trucks.
We climbed over 8,000 feet in 50 miles (according to gps) but nary a whimper issued from either rider. In fact, after climbing out of the river gorge, The Cat felt long dormant lobes of his lung open up like the spring buds. We rewarded ourselves with a 50 mph plunge down the mountain via route 40. Passing cars, it never gets old. All the Cat can say is, "wish you were there."
12 comments:
Nice ride!!
I'm coming at you thurs 5/1 to reclaim the polka dot for spring spectacular. Wash it!
As admin I could edit out the above vitriol but, it amuses me so. You've got amazing powers of misperception. I do wish you'd had the balls to step out behind the curtain of anonymity, though. I'd like to check out your super cool, wiz bang, single speed, flat black paint, Sonic Death Monkey t shirt, messenger bag, urban street bicycle site. It might just be interesting. You should get out from under the oppressive weight of your low self esteem and put it out there. Oh, you should also refrain from the use of hackneyed, blase' terms like "poser," even if it is true in my case. Can't dispute that.
Vitriol? Hell from what I read in this blog the word you should have used was "Gospel"
The fluff that I read in all those posts is almost shocking, the fact you would go to the extent to make something that was perhaps fun to almost painful after reading about it, is again unbelievable.
Perhaps more drinking pictures would make it less painful and I don't mean pictures of someone drinking wine from some loser winery, put a Strohs in that boys hand and show the "Tuesday Jackasses" pissing the word "Fuck You" on a national monument!
Well, "anonymous," seems like the bastard son of Hunter S. or maybe Lenny Bruce jr. has stumbled upon the humble and overtly bourgeoisie (in the classic sense) Grimpeurs. By the way, It was Pabst Blue Ribbon instead of Strohs and football fields and lime instead of piss and monuments--but that was long ago. If you would like to bring your proletariat( You are certainly not aristocratic and your habitual carpet f-bombings call into question membership in the intellectual class until otherwise proven.) prose to the humble and meat starved Grimpeur audience, I would be glad to post one of your ride reports. All I ask is that you pick a part of speech into which you would like to classify your ubiquitous use of the F-word.
First you need to understand the use of the "F-word" as you say, its not just the use of the "F-word" its the overuse that makes it stand out ... By the way, the use of "Fucking Cocksucker" would work better in most situations, but I am leaving that for a later post.
I see you feel the need to fluff your replies in the same manner as the blog, I can tell there is much anger beneath all this fucking bullshit of which you think is some literary genius.
Perhaps the fist full of white bread and hunk of velvetta eating animal will eventually jump down from his ivory tower and scream! Listen here you mother fucker with fists wailing, as I am sure this is your true character from reading this blog.
I would say these posts of mine could put your blood pressure in a range that would frighten a hydraulic cylinder, so before your fuckin head explodes and you actually start typing how you actually feel perhaps you should just not answer these.
Although from your constant replies and the competition like feel in your blog (it seems you feel it's you against all comers, instead of a just mere love of the sport) you do seem the type that would risk death or injury just to prove a point that wouldn't make a bit of difference to the lame duck that you portray yourself as in the blog.
So I am sitting here in this hell hole called Meadville completely unable to even Grimpeur tomorrow in the slightest way and I see all these posts. I am at a crossroads, torn between my alliance to the Grimpeur society et al. but then again, Im laughing my ass off the whole while. I do like beer instead of wine I cried out at one point....but what amuses me the most is the fact that us "polite" cyclists are becoming angered, using filthy language to stress points. Dont get me wrong, I approve but, Its like the superficial frost has been swept away, leaving the animal instinct behind. I await the next ride report from this great distance. Im outta here, I gotta go watch Ophrah.
Just for you Troegenator ... You can refer to me as the "NYC Bicycle Bastardizer" if that will make you feel better.
Btw, I will be in for the 05.07.08 edition of this little ride. Plan accordingly.
wow.
looks like someone needs to go ride his (her?) bike to burn off some excess energy and expell some anger (frustration?).
thanks, fat cat, for allowing these attacks to be published.... it's great reading!
my suggestion to anonymous would be that if he (she?) doesn't like what's written on these pages, he (she?) should put on underwear that fit and look elsewhere for his (her?) reading entertainment.
wow.
"NYC Bicycle Bastardizer." That's awfully close to "NYC Bike Snob." plagiarist, admirer, haplessly unaware or under cover? If the latter, honored.
Your wrong on most accounts comments may have hit a Kernel of truth in the last line. At the risk of angry emails from my white bread pals, I put a post up just for you.
and there was peace in the valley.....
so gad that this has come to a harmonious end....
glad, too. oops.
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