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· half-fast
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Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)
I've been busy the last few weeks with tests, finals, regular work, side jobs, and all the myriad other crud that comes along. I got to ride some, but haven't made time to fool with pix or post 'em.

The Mother's Day festivities are concluded, both our Moms are home now after brunch, and Mrs. is asleep on the couch. School's out for the semester, and I ain't working on side work today. Time for pictures.

The first pix are in and around the serpentine barrens.

Next are from the Avalon and Stone Harbor area of the Jersey Shore. I worked there last week, and am going to be there again this coming week. Hopefully there'll be more riding and less beer. We'll see.

The next few are from this morning. Standard southeast PA fare.

The last three are beach photos I had to resize again for some reason.
 

· half-fast
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Discussion Starter · #2 · (Edited)
In looking at the finished post, some of the sequences are off, but you get the idea.

On the barrens ride, I was chased by the most passionate chasing dog ever. He was a professional chasing dog, with planned attack routes, persistence, and the most amazing joy for the chase.

He began with a flanking attack from the rear, silent until he was in striking distance. He followed-through across the road (once he'd thoroughly scared the hell out of me), and quickly changed direction, back across the street towards my front.

I was just cruising around before he'd crashed into my reverie, and was in a poky gear, maybe 42/19 or so. Once it became apparent I was locked in a battle for survival, I spun the cranks like, well, a guy getting chased by a dog.

While I'm spinning my brains out, getting flanking attacks from both sides, a car comes up from behind. With the car behind and gaining on me and my stealthy foe, the damn dog decides to cross in front of me.

Now, all I can think about is hitting the dog (he's big, maybe 80 lbs. It's gonna hurt.), skidding along, and both of us getting whacked by the car.

I jink hard to miss the dog, the rear wheel slides over the edge of the road into the sandy junk, the ass-end of the bike heels over, and somehow I miss the dog and stay up. I'd rather be lucky than smart.

Right about now I remember that the bike has gears, and if I use them, I can go faster.

Glad to have the STI levers, I jam it into some other gear -- 52/ something more than 19, and damned if that dog don't keep pace with me for a few hundred more feet.

Once I lost the dog, the car passed us.

The whole thing was probably only a little over a thousand yards and a very short time, but, wow.

A mile or so later the crummy handling of a super low tire and way out of true wheel were the last remnants of the excitement. I changed my tube, opened my brake caliper, and frankly, I was glad for the chance to sit down and let the ol' heart rate simmer down.

No pix of the dog.

edit for spelling and punctuation.
 

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Discussion Starter · #6 · (Edited)
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