My Work Here is Done.
Last night Sherry, Sierra, and I rolled to a park in SE Portland for a cyclocross clinic put on by one of our favorite hometown heroes, Molly Cameron. I credit Molly with single-handedly converting me to the Church of Cyclocross. When I moved to Portland, I began reading her blog religiously to get an insider’s look at the local racing scene.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Now it’s cyclocross season and the whole city is going completely ape-shit with preparations. Practice barriers are being constructed, clinics held, and cowbells polished. It’s on.
Last year, Sherry cheered for Sal and I at every single race. I’m serious – she didn’t even miss one. Then she got a ‘cross bike for Christmas. Then I started putting the racing bug in her ear.
And, somehow, over the summer, she resolved to race the crap out of the season. She even joined my team – and she brought Sierra with her.
So now I have a posse.
And I couldn’t be happier.
Up until about an hour ago, Sierra didn’t have a ‘cross bike. With the season approaching quickly, we were starting to get worried about finding a relatively small bike within her relatively small budget ($600). Then, as fast as an email can hit my obsessively-checked inbox, she scored pretty much one of the sweetest deals I’ve seen in a while.
At 11:15am gentleman posted his 52 Pro Ti for sale on the Cross Crusade forums. I cut off a phone conversation I was having with someone in order to call Patrick, the seller. Once I had the scoop on the bike (and the setup was confirmed to be officially cherry), I called Sherry and put her into action.
No time to lose! Drive to Hillsboro NOW and get Sierra on that bike! NOW!!! Goooooo!!!
They’re en route to my house right now with the prize and they just called me squealing like 7th graders at a Justin Timberlake concert. In 15 minutes we’ll be eating Laughing Planet bounty and engaging in major bike lust.
Oh, snaps! Watch this, we’re about to kill it!
Now my only problem is that the rookie’s bike is like 10 pounds lighter than mine! Son of a …
I think this can only mean one thing – it’s time for the Wound Up fork. Boo yah!
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