Granville...Fred is back

Saturday (end of April) and we are racing in 85 degree temperatures. What? Yes eighty plus five! And this is ONLY the third time I’ve ridden without knee warmers so far this year...

short recap for the attention deficit out there:
Chairman Fred is back racing
Fred is off the back
ok, he’s back on
Fred tells us he’s dropping out in the penultimate lap
we convince him to ride on
Fred is down (minor road rash)
ok, he’s back on
Fred is off the back
ok, he’s back on
...AND THEN HE KILLS US ALL IN THE SPRINT!

Longer version: We swoop down on the annual Granville race around the rain, farm fertilizer and manure, and potholes only to find the hottest April day in history with winds blowing a steady 18 mph, gusting to Wizard of Oz force. I find Cadillac George has arrived early and ‘who’s the scholar’ Andy Will has also arrived without a jersey, shorts and socks, Diaper Dan Tinderholt, DJ T-Will, Mighty Scott Young, and Chairman Fred have arrived. Rumors circulate about Rea-Rea upgrading to 3.o and reuniting with team jellyroll (somebody say it ain’t so).

It is a scheduled 5 laps or 35 miles, no problem I’ve got two bottles. The masters race is joined by Tym and we spin out hitting the wind at the start finnish, bam...this is gonna hurt. No problem with the wind at our backs we do an easy 35 mph until we have to make that inevitable turn back into the breeze. We make the mistake of cooperation and everyone pulls through, enough turns at Tym’s speeds and a few of us are no longer there. Damn, I find myself riding in a three man break with Tym and Scott. Again I make the mistake of trading turns with the former pro and bye-bye break. Scott hangs a little longer but soon he is popped too. I roll a half lap alone waiting for a nice chat with the remains of the peloton but find only George and Fred motoring behind me. The 30 mph on the back is coupled with the 10 mph front. And it kinda wears a man down. Chairman Fred is struggling, we wait up and pull him along. His grandchildren pass us bottles to drink and dump on out heads (yeah, in April!) and we ride on.

The crash happens when the sweaty one moves left at 8 mph to blow his Roman nose, I swerve and Fred does the wheel scrape before he hit the deck. Not moving we roll back to check on him...road rash and cramping he’s OK, and we tow Fred around for another lap and a half.

You what happens next, he drops the hammer in the sprint and takes us. Note to self: make Fred do plenty of work next week...