Bike 2, the singlespeed, found it's new home in Blacksburg, VA. I would be spending Thanksgiving in Virginia, so I thought that this would be the perfect opportunity to expand my buyer group size. The night before leaving, I received an email from Sam. She (yep Sam turned out to be female) was interested in the bike, but was kind of on a tight schedule, since she would be leaving for home early the next day. The decision came down to whether to meet that evening (which was looking like an 8 pm eta), or early the next morning. We decided on the next morning, since I was running kind of behind. She wanted to ride the bike on the local Pandapas pond trails, and asked if I would like to accompany her on a bike ride. Used to riding alone, since I don't really know anyone in town anymore, I jumped at the opportunity. Sam asked if I needed her to bring a bike, but I decided that the fixed gear would be more than adequate for a mellow ride (anyone starting to notice a pattern in my poor judgement making skills?).
7:30 came early enough, and I tried to find every piece of cold weather bike gear that I owned. The quick drive to the trail put me into the foggy empty lot. About 2 minutes later my riding partner for the next hour and fifteen showed up. Out pops a pretty, fit looking girl and her dog. Hmm this might be a problem. After introductions and a pedal swap, I hear the fateful words that I'm dreading. I just started riding back in July so I'm pretty new to this still. Why does this statement strike fear in me? One, I'm on a fixed gear mountain bike. Two, this girl looks pretty fit, and I was expecting a pretty mellow ride. Three, the last couple times people have told me they are just starting out and have a runners or climbers build, it's because they are, and they are sand bagging you. After the first 15 minutes of chasing her through the woods, I ask the usual question of you ran cross country all through high school, didn't you? This fact is confirmed, but it doesn't do a thing to help my poor choice in bicycles for the morning.
I'm stoked to reconnect with the Poverty Creek trail system, and try in earnest to keep pace, while focusing on not smashing my pedal on every other rock on the never ending series of rock gardens. Up and down, rock and root, leaves and creeks. I miss these trails sometimes. On the mellow (finally) spin back to the car, I start up with some friendly conversation. I say that I hope to try to get some riding in with one of my friends this week, since I hadn't seen her in a bit. I should have known that since cycling communities, especially the female population, are very small. I also should not have been surprised that she knew Sarah. Taking this as a good thing, I start to wonder if I should introduce the two of them. The topic soon turns to the joys of riding fixed gears in the woods. I mention that I am trying to get my friend Sarah, to start riding fixed again. It is at this self-induced face punching time that Sam informs me that Sarah's current boyfriend used to be Sam's. I proceed to reintroduce myself as Tony, the idiot, and announce that I will no longer be talking for the remainder for the ride since my mouth is currently occupied by my foot.
All in all it was still an awesome ride. I got a bike sold to worthy new owner, made a new trail buddy, and got rip some old familiar singletrack. Note to all those currently selling bikes, assume nothing because anything can happen. You could end up knowing the buyer in some obscure way, or end up chasing after someone claiming to have just started riding. It still amuses me how life unfolds sometimes.
