Doug was one of the Triple Crown Doubles rookies when we first earned it in 2005. Doug always a little too earnest (and me being a little too much wiseass), on one Double he lectured Mike the vegetarian on how he needs to put more protein in his diet, and me on how I eat too much protein—thus I reasoned that Mike and I combined have a perfect diet. But we played off of each other and the rides always went fast and were enjoyable. Since then Mike has been shipped to Hawaii and Doug moved a little closer, to Sacramento. Doug always says he has great rides for us to do, and when Ward/I ran into Doug at Foxy’s we pestered him for never getting a Club ride together. So Doug did; we got the usual bonus mile riders for the 2 hour drive into the hills. We were joined by some cool riders from Doug’s new club, the Team Bolshevik Revolution Cyclists. We wound up doing loads and loads of attention getting rollers (and a few long hills) in the upper Gold Country were there isn’t 25 feet that remain flat.(t) Climbing away from the American River. (b) Our host, Doug, eats his fuel of choice at Georgetown Rest Stop. (Ward Photo)I drove up through the Central Valley farm roads where though the sun was out nicely the thermometer read 44. If it stayed under 50 by the time I reached Folsom I was going to try out a new mini-handlebar bag and start out bundled up. (Maybe NOT a good idea with my handlebars cracking a few weeks back “just because,” and I replaced it with the same brand.) Ironically I solo’d a ride in Folsom to Auburn the day before Halloween so was vaguely familiar with the starting point—Folsom is a suburb of Sacramento but with more open space (and ambient asbestos) than most suburbs, and they have an old town section that they promote nicely.
Heading out of Folsom Stephen, who loves to research and race to the county line, was caught napping after Ward rolled on ahead and---oh jeeze, the County Line is about a ¼ mile from the start. This led to spirited returned trip—Stephen sprints better than me and a much better descended, so I tried to lift the pace on the climbs and get rid of him but he held fast. Then when we got close to Folsom Ward counterattacked, Christine joined the fray, I cracked…and the County Line Sign in this direction was missing.
The rest of the ride was done at a serious but cooperative pace. I tried to stay with anyone at the front—thought at one point dropped to the back to help Ward bring riders up. Loads of well paved main roads surrounded by isolated homes, mom and pop stores, oaks and pine (In the middle of a Placerville subdivision was a private airport where folks land between houses and hills.) —but we must not have been far from population centers (Auburn) as though traffic wasn’t steady the roads were busy with aggressive cars/ pickup trucks. Dorothy, we are not in Davis; very few cars moved over when passing, even when there was nary a shoulder. I got into one “discussion” with idiots in an SUV who shaved me—later a compact almost squeezed one of the Bolshevik Cyclists off the road when passing and then almost came to a complete stop in front of him. For about 25% of the ride we’d wind up on a back road with little traffic—which usually meant a steep climb was coming up.