TNR Report

A stellar night of riding. It was more than a little different than the usual TNR. Last night will surely go down as one of the more memorable TNRs in the long and illustrious history of the FGBC. First off, it was record setting in a number of ways. 18 riders showed up at the HQ, among them five TNR rookies: Greg W, Brian S, Chris D, Graham W, and Dave P. We also saw the return of an old friend and FGBC veteran. Welcome back Bergen! And yet, as some joined us for the first time, for others it was the last Tuesday Night Ride for a while. Patrick is off to Toronto to spend some time cruising the hallways of the ivory tower known as the U of T. Good luck, Patrick. There were so many people out last night that we did not all fit around the table back at the F&H. The first time we've every had to colonize multiple tables at the klubhaus. The ride itself was punctuated by a record number of flat tyres (two) and more than the usual quota of crashes (I counted at least five). We finally managed the succesful completion of the much-discussed circumnavigation of the airport. Until last night, the missing link had been the gravel/dirt portion of Selkirk Ave. that runs along the north fence. Our arrival on the scene proved to be a bit of a shock to a pair of horny kids that were blocking the path while using their father's pick-up truck as a venue in which to get to know each other just a little more intimately. They experienced a few awkward moments and displayed a panicked, deer in the blinky-light look on their faces as 18 of us led a parade through a part of town that turned out to be quite a bit less secluded than they'd evidently thought. Beyond the young lovers, the road was rocky and rutted. But the large puddles of water and mud that put an end to previous attempts were not in evidence last night. The mountain bikers seemed to have a good time. Those riding skinny-tyred fixies, however, were presented with a bit of a stiffer challenge. But it was not insurmountable. And yet there were several riders who were taken down along this section of the route. The most notable of those was Brian S who, just moments after he came storming through the group and took a flier off the front of the pack, became entangled with KK and wound up landing on top of a particularly pointy rock. As his anguished shrieks pierced the accentuated quietude that marks the moment between planes flying overhead, it seemed as if we might have gotten ourselves into a situation that was going to require some finesse in order to get out of it. But Brian would get back on the bike, eventually, if only to retire early to the klubhouse along with a handful of escorts. The rest of us soldiered on and made it all the way around the airport and back. There was a fair amount of friskiness at the front end of the group, as the pace gradually ramped up until we found ourselves in a full on sprint down Portage as we neared the F&H.

Back at the klubhaus, the newly re-installed bike racks were duly admired. The work of Penner and Brad was so much appreciated, in fact, that the first round was on the house. Thanks guys. And the second round was picked up Dave P. Thanks Dave!

Jonny M was a no-show for his arm-wrestling tie-breaker showdown with Craig. So let the record state that Craig is the winner of Stage 18 of the 2009 FGBC Tour de France Pool.

Toward the end of the evening, things took a rather interesting turn. It was reminiscent of the time we were fêted by Crowbar. But perhaps even creepier. We were paid a surprise visit by a woman named Marilyn and her apparently nameless friend. At first, they zeroed in on Graham. He did not seem to bite at their attempts to draw him into a round of amorous chitchat. Perhaps "Hey there, Babycakes" was not the wisest opening line on their part. And yet they proved to be a resilient pair. That they did not give up easily was convenient, in a way, as it gave the rest of us an opportunity to slip away, one by one, over to the other table. But not before Dave P was victimized by a mild sexual assault--his head was kissed and his back boob-slapped--and Halberto was very nearly the victim of a theft. Marilyn tried to walk off with his bag. In her defense however, she was (a) very drunk and (b) carrying a large red purse of her own. She might simply have been confused.

We finally emerged back to the safety of our bikes, only to discover that Tom's rear tyre was flat. His new-fangled tubeless technology failed him. So he was forced to undertake a long and no doubt somewhat lonely walk back home. Bummer.

All in all, good times. We are a fortunate bunch.

Photographic evidence: