Tuesday the 12th

Loose Cleats Sink Fleets 

The ride got off to a pretty sedate start today. Half because everyone was behaving themselves, half because the group rolled north into a headwind instead of the usual tailwind-assisted chaos.

Early moves came from Sean Maher, Turner French, and George E. Sean Mayer eventually decided enough and drilled it on South Brooksvale, opening a respectable gap heading to Mountain Road.

Then came a top-10 "Worst-timed Traffic Situation" in SGR history.

A car stopped at the intersection of Mountain Road and North Brooksvale managed to back traffic up in basically every direction possible. Sean, after all that work, came to a complete stop while the rest of the group casually rolled back onto his wheel and filtered through the left-hander like grandmas leaving a grocery store parking lot.

From there, Hacker and Hunter P kept things moving up Mountain Road. The pace stayed steady but without any decisive attacks. A few times it looked like Turner French, Sean Maher, Sean Hurley, or Chris C were getting ready to launch something, but it was bit of a stare-down contest.

On Moss Farm Road, George E remained active at the front alongside Turner French and the usual suspects. Turner and Hunter P hit the gas heading toward Marion Road, stretching the field but not quite snapping the elastic.

Steve B then took his turn on the front and from there things devolved into tactical musical chairs among the Angels. Guys were simultaneously trying to launch teammates, chase teammates, block for teammates and stare at each other long enough for somebody else to make the mistake first. Classic too-many-cooks in-the-kitchen. 

In the end, the pace stayed decent, if largely unimpressive, all the way to the light on 322.

Mount Vernon brought another shift in tone when Nate Summers pushed off the front and initially nobody seemed too concerned about it. His dad briefly assumed the role of Hall Monitor at the front of the field, but once Sean Maher accelerated across the gap the group collectively remembered this was, in fact, a race without an entry fee.

Even so, the pace periodically dropped to iron-deficient, clinically anemic levels, which somehow made everything more tense, not less. Sean Maher, Turner French, and Steve B all had moments where an acceleration looked like it could become a race-defining move, but each time it turned into another extended staring contest at the front of the pack.

By the end of Mount Vernon, the hesitation had become so severe that a small group of four or five riders simply rolled away. Chris C, Joe Rod, Sean Hurley, and a few others carried a gap onto Welch while the heavyweight contingent behind them finally organized enough to start pulling things back together.

Sure enough, it was together by the hill, with Turner French, Hacker, and Hunter P leading the group through the corner onto West Street.

Then everyone reset again with more “No, you do it” tactics followed as the pace slowed to a Cat 5 crawl, allowing Chris C and George E to push clear off the front. Nobody immediately committed to the chase, which allowed Chris C to ultimately grab the sprint while Turner French cleaned things up from the reduced pack behind.

That setup what became the decisive move. A small group came downhill with speed and intent, caught a light by the I-84 interchange, and even received the rare and highly prestigious “friendly draft from a box truck” bonus card. At that point the gap was gone for good.

Turner French, Steve B, Chris C, and George George E were away and that was effectively the race.

Sean Maher did manage to solo push off the pack, but with the Cheshire lights working against the chase, the main group was not coming back together.

Another classic Tuesday night: tactical confusion, selective heroics, accidental traffic neutralizations, and just enough cooperation to make things interesting. Great ride!