Thursday, September 4, 2008
Killer Bee came out of his mountain cave to take on The Fat Cat on his own turf Thursday last. The roiling remnants of hurricane Wolfcry set the stage for his dark intent. From the relentless circular assault the Bee was about to deliver, it can only be assumed that he had come out to avenge poor Cubby. You will recall that Killer Bee brought his unsuspecting pal out for a first Grimpeur ride a couple of weeks ago. Little did he know it was to be an irresponsible five climb nightmare that would pound his young ward into the ground.
The mountain was angry, said The Bee. High winds and dangerous conditions unsafe for man nor bike prevailed on Mud Pike by his account. Outside The Cat’s window there were dark clouds and spitting rain, perfect conditions. Given the weather, Killer Bee thought it best that he come over to Morgantown for a nice little ride. The Cat thought he heard a little Snidely Whiplash snigger from the other end of the line just before he hung up.
Some of you might think The Fat Cat rides hills for fun, but it is more of necessity. For mere yards from his front door, a steep 1/2 mile pitch called Tyrone Avery blocks any thought of easy passage. It is either learn to climb or be shackled to bike paths. The reason for this revelation is so the reader can better understand Killer Bee’s obvious ill will.
As soon as the duo hit Tyrone Avery, Killer Bee cranked it up. There would be no warm up. The gentlemanly nature to which the Grimpeurs had evolved (or devolved) was cast asunder. Bee pulled right away leaving The Cat standing on the pedals, eyes boring holes in his partners back, just to close the gap. At the top Bee said, “You were really riding easy up that hill,” then he took off again. The Cat was left to ponder the possible meaning of the enigmatic phrase. Did he mean that the pace was brisk, the hill well ridden? Did he mean that he thought the pace was easy?
The intent became clearer as the two Grimpeurs started the climb up Snake Hill. After keeping The Cat tantalizingly on his wheel for about a half a minute, just long enough to hear his heart start pounding like a kettle drum, the filthy insect spun up a sizable gap in short order. The only thing that saved Killer Bee from the laser-like gaze of the Cat upon his back was the stream of stinging sweat that forced one eye closed and the other into a slit. In the midst of the struggle, nay—the beat-down, The Cat began to smile. Two guys kicking each other in the nuts; that’s just the way it should be.
The Cat smiled again when he said the next hill wasn’t too long, good to sprint. He made a measured effort and watched his fellow grimpeur blow about 25 yards from the top. Heh, heh.
More of the same followed—Bee cranking up hills with superior form, the Cat reaching into his bag of cheap tricks on the rollers and down hills. The trip up super steep Mt. Zion was a challenge on wet roads, no standing please. Bee, of course made a point to come back down after he summited and tease the Cat. But, he didn’t have to come too far down.
Killer Bee clearly established his superiority Thursday and had done his friend justice. The Cat definitely was dealt a share of what he had dished out. Still, a rising rain storm and a downhill profile on home roads was just what The Cat needed to make a desperate break and put a bit of a scuff on The Bee at the finish. It was great fun. Now, the Cat’s got a mouse to chase.
Since I am slack on the ride reports, I’m just going to tack a short report of today’s ride onto the above.
Killer Bee and The Fat Cat met again at the bottom of Mud Pike on a blazingly hot day in September. Bee’s blood lust had apparently been satisfied last Thursday. He put on a good lead pace but always kept an eye back for The Cat. He amiably offered his wheel whenever the Cat was flagging. In the end they averaged 15 mph over the Pike, Skyline north, Jumonville, and across through Hopwood and Fairchance. The Cat made it to after school pickup with 40 minutes to spare.