The dirty kind of ride

I like biking. Probably more than most people like biking. I like biking for exercise, I like commuting on a bike, I like biking just for the scenery and I like talking about bikes. Which is why when The Duchess (my 1968 Raleigh all-steel three gear internal speed) was brutally snatched from my bike rack in the middle of the night, I mourned her loss.

When I got home for winter break, one of my first thoughts was “thank God, we have bikes there.” That was apparently nobody else’s thought with the temperature hovering around 25 and the dirt road we live on at peak slush point. But I knew my Uncle Eric would be up for the challenge, and when I called he came over to ride the six miles around Stoney Creek Metropark with me (which, with the commute to and fro, ends up being a nice 10 mile ride).

As this picture crudely demonstrates (courtesy of my sister’s phone photo) I was COVERED in road dirt. I hadn’t ridden a mountain bike in a while, but I was getting mud from all angles. I forgot how messy biking could be without a cushy chain guard and fender setup. While I love a good ride, this was a bike ride that quickly turned into a load of laundry and a hot shower. Mainly because my mom wouldn’t let me sit on any of her furniture. Warning: results not typical. Approach dirt roads with caution, ye winter cyclists!

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