Trek'n

I was so late, no way they were going to wait long enough for me.

I was trying to make the Trek Store in 45 minutes from work, A-list work under the best of circumstances.

I got caught behind a train. I had time to get a good shot of the train, so I guess I could have snuck past the locomotive instead.

The train was just getting started, too, and had a full load of coal. I think it took about ten minutes. To my delight and astonishment, the group was still in the Trek lot when I got there almost fifteen minutes late: two of the riders had flats one right after the other.

After, I didn't have time to hang for margaritas, but I did pick up some brake pads. Going touring next weekend and I knew my brakes weren't quite right. They were too booked up to do the repair work on my schedule, but it's high time I learned to do this shit myself.

The brake pads I've worn to the warning track were new as of Memorial Day, my last touring adventure. So I guess there's miles and then there's miles, because I got a year and a half out of the last pair.

I think, actually, given how different it felt when I had the new pads this spring, the old brakes weren't worn out but the rubber was old and hard. Probably didn't do my rims any favors (might explain, in part, why I've had to replace both wheels—broken spokes are symptomatic of worn rims), and I guess I got used to grabbing hard because when I stopped for the first time with the new brakes I about went ass over.

While I was in the neighborhood, I borrowed my brother's Magic Shine light to help get through the weekend. We never set out to finish in the dark, but I can't remember ever pitching a tent in daylight. And riding on country roads at night with crappy headlights is for the birds.