On to the St. Paul Bike Classic. In past years it's been so cold in the morning that your hands actually ache just trying to get to the starting line. This year I stepped into my garage and thought, damn, it's hot in here! It was absolutely the warmest Bike Classic I've ever been on - it supposedly got into the upper 80s today - I think I'm still shedding a bit of heat eight hours later. I got my bike and gear together before 6 a.m. and pushed it over to Steve's house where Christy was going to give me a ride. I was a bit early so I just strapped my bike to her rack and then sat in Steve's front yard in the not-yet-daylight reading a book, much to the amusement of the Strib girl making her Sunday morning rounds. Around 6:30 we packed up and then drove over to get Sandy and head north to St. Thomas to start the ride. I saw Steve (different Steve, blogger Steve, not neighbor Steve) at St. Thomas, much to my surprise - it generally amazes me that you can find anyone in a crowd of several thousand people. The ride itself was generally uneventful - no squirrel mashing, no dead giant snakes, no accidents/deaths - and a little more difficult than in years past as few of us had been biking lately, so 30 miles was a haul. So, on to the pictures (by the way, I'm very sorry I didn't get a picture of the rock'em sock'em George W. Bush punching doll - I knew I wasn't relaxing enough when I didn't feel like coming to an immediate stop).
This is everyone at the Indian Mound rest stop looking appropriately tired after a very large hill, followed by a turn, and then another large hill. This year we had Phil and his wife and his wife's friend as additions, or perhaps as substitutions for Mean Mr. Mustard, after all it would take three youngsters to equal his age. He did join us for the traditional St. Clair Broiler breakfast, as did Lisa, said restaurant living up to its name by having intermittent air conditioning problems.
Christy and Sandy wouldn't give me a moon shot this year, so I had to settle for them coming out of the porta poties at the Indian Mound rest stop. Christy said a bad word so she has to eat soap.
Christy being silly. I think this is how they ride bikes in West Virginia. I have a similar picture of Sandy and Christy, but it's a little fuzzy.
Who's ever run over a squirrel during this ride? Come on, raise your hand if you have. Ok, now who dates the registration babe? Raise your hand. Worn tight biking shorts just to impress the ladies? Hand up! I thought so.
Action shot. Ming, Erik, and Phil - a peloton.
I don't know who this is - but it shows that the Como rest stop is very nice and there are a lot of bikes, so it's sort of proof we didn't just go on a made up ride and claim it was an organized event.
Erik doing his Elvis impersonation. I'm pretty sure Aqua City Motel, Erik's band, just does Elvis covers. I'll let you know next week after "the gig".
Phil and crew pulling into the Como rest stop - that's his wife Rochelle waving for the camera.
Sometimes just getting thirty miles of exercise is not enough - you have to dress up to do it. I kept trying to get a picture of this guy in the process of pedaling, but he was really hauling ass, so I had to settle for catching him with a mouthful of food.
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