I remain deeply committed to my existential search for the Spirit of Gravel. Still, even the most intrepid explorer has to take a break every once in awhile. Sometimes you’ve got to stop looking for something for awhile in order to find it, right?
And so it was that after consecutive days of flared-bar, knobby-tired rambling–including a liquid latex money shot–I decided that was enough research for awhile and retreated to the Cervino:
This too was something of a symbolic journey, for it was exactly three weeks ago to the day that this very bike had thrown me like an unbroken stallion who’s just caught the scent of a mare in heat:
After which I eventually found myself sitting in an ER and hoping the doctor was going to open this drawer to treat me:
And not this one:
Like that fateful day, this one was also unseasonably warm, a delightful gift after all the snow and frigid weather we’d had over the holidays:
[“Don’t make me say it.”]
Also like that day I headed over the George Washington Bridge and onto Route 9W, the Fredliest stretch of road east of the Golden Gate and host to an endless procession of riders on plastic bikes equipped with mysterious electronics that make beeping sounds when they pass. However, unlike that fateful day I had plump(er) clincher tires and wider handlebars, and also unlike that day I did not make a right turn and make the plunge down to River Road. Instead, I kept going, up to and over the Tappan Zee Mario Cuomo Bridge and then south towards home, and in so doing I felt like I was cutting and pasting over some erroneous passage in the narrative of the Universe.
[I also noted at the turn-off to River Road that the road was closed all the way up to 9W instead of at the entrance to the park where it usually is, and while I’m sure this isn’t the case, I like to think it’s because after my crash decided “Okay, that’s the last time we babysit one of these cyclist assholes after they crash,” and cut the flow of Freds off at the source once and for all.]
I will admit that at times while riding the PRJCT GRVL bike I’ve wondered if maybe I was turning into a gravel guy. After all, I am enjoying the bike, and I even plugged a tire! “So is this it?,” I began to ask myself as I feathered my disc brakes or tried to remember to which of the bike’s roughly 30,000 accessory mounts I’d attached my one (1) normal-sized water bottle cage. “Do I need to get one of those jerseys that lets me drink from my nipples?”
Well I assure you my Quest for Gravel is far from over, but it wasn’t long before the Cervino reminded me I’m in little danger of a complete defection. One of the best and simultaneously most frustrating things about bikes is how good they can be completely by accident. Here’s a 44 year-old bike, recently crashed, with mountain bike pedals and a too-long stem and a grimy chain and cheap brake levers and single-pivot brakes and a primitive non-slant parallelogram rear derailleur an a 130mm wheel crammed unceremoniously into its rear end like a length of emergency room rectal tubing and I’ll be rectally intubated if it did not feel positively exquisite:
You can have an unlimited budget and spend months and months trying to put together a bike that feels this good and you won’t succeed. Okay, fine, you will succeed but you’ll secretly wonder if you could have saved the money and kept riding the Cervino instead. Of course a lot of this has to do with the fact that it was a surprise beautiful day in January, and that in the days before this I’d been pushing a pair of knobby gravel tires, and most importantly that the hurtiest parts of my body are no longer so hurty. Still, it was a very pleasant ride is what I’m saying, and the Cervino left me wanting for nothing.
Best of all, I got a flat on the ride at almost exactly the moment I arrived at home. I mean, sure, no flat would be even better, but if you are going to get a flat you really can’t beat one that waits until you’re done pedaling for the day. (Or else possibly a flat that gives you an excuse to drop out of a race when you’re not feeling good. Many’s the morning in Prospect Park I’ve wished for a secret rapid deflation button, kind of like the one Fabian Cancellara had to engage his motor at the Tour of Flanders.)
Speaking of riding on the road, passing through Irvington this past weekend I noticed this sign–not the one about the farmers market, but the other one:
Usually when you see something like that it’s because they’re trying to build a bike lane or something, so I looked it up:
Woodcliff Manor has been marked for demolition. Help us create a future for Irvington that honors it
An out-of-state developer, the Varma Development Corporation, better known as “Big Varma,” is planning to purchase and demolish Woodcliff Manor, the historic Morgan family mansion at 76 North Broadway. According to Irvington’s own conservation architect Joseph Pell Lombardi, the original house probably was built at the end 18th century; then altered by George Morgan in the mid-1800s. Big Varma plans to replace the beautifully restored mansion with a massive, industrial-looking apartment complex entirely out of character with our village’s unique architecture and spirit. We must act now. The Village Planning Board is poised to greenlight this project despite our zoning laws and vehement opposition from residents. Our goal is simple: Stop Big Varma.
So basically they’re getting rid of an old mansion and building an apartment building.
However I did keep scrolling down and there it was:
Hey, not like anybody cares since I’m not an Irvingtonian, but one lane sounds good to me. Passing through here on a bike you’ve got two choices: the unpaved Old Croton Aqueduct Trailway, or getting close-passed on this stretch of road:
Even without a GRVL BK I prefer to use the OCA, but it’s not possible (or at best very unpleasant) when it’s all greasy and slimy and treacherous and disgusting like it often is at this time of year:
Plus, when the conditions are good, you’ll also find lots of Irvingtonians walking on it, some of whom are clearly annoyed by your presence, and even if they’re not annoyed I don’t like riding on a narrow path when it’s crowded because I understand that it is probably very annoying.
So yes, they’ll lose a mansion and have to live among apartment-dwellers, but at least if they narrow the road along with it they might have to deal with fewer Freds while they’re walking their dogs on the OCA.