Riding on the Rivet

I used to have an old Brooks saddle on my Raleigh that I got from my father-in-law, I think. Last night on the Farmer’s Market Ride, I was “riding on the rivet.” “Riding on the rivet” refers to those particularly strong efforts in cycling in which the rider in order to gain more power, rides on the nose of the saddle in order to maintain maximum power. Time trialers seat themselves on the nose of the saddle for this very reason. The picture to the left is the rivet that termed that expression. Last night at the weekly Farmer’s Market Ride, had I had my old Brooks saddle, I would’ve been all over it — the rivet that is.

Yesterday’s ride was much more docile coming out of the Farmer’s Market up all the way to Old Salem, but once we turned onto Teague it was off to the races. The peleton started to break up on Old Greensboro and by the time we reached Walburg – High Point Rd, I’d been shelled out the back.

Der Jan, Chum, and I got back together with some other riders among whom was “Raul Alcala,” (rides in a Mexican flag jersey), “Mario Cippolini” (red Saeco jersy) and “Supper Strong Stacy.” We formed up and got in a comfortable groove. My heart rate dropped below 165 for the first time in a while — wow. And riding north, I think I heard the Good Doc holler out as our group passed the Fitness Center ride which was headed south on our namesake highway, Horneytown Road.

There wasn’t too much cheek this time as we turned on Squire Davis, Sandy Ridge, Bunkerhill — we were just glad be finishing. As we positioned and lined up for the finishing sprint, I marked the acceleration and got in third position — perfect for poaching the sprint. Unfortunately a truck backed out of a driveway, and broke us up. By the time I decided to go for the sprint Super Strong Stacy had already jumped. Remaining in the saddle, I “road on the rivet” to the painted blue finish line where I came up short by half a wheel. Dang! ten more meters? Stacy points to the line and my tire and yells, “Ha!” By the time we got back to the parking lot, Tailights! already had his bike in the back of Jeff’s truck, Dude! It was all stories and complaining and trash-talking and complaining at rides end. Did I mention trash-talking?

Oh, and did I mention I love riding?

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About randamir

I pastor Grace Presbyterian Church in Kernersville, North Carolina which locals fondly refer to as K-vegas -- the town not the church. As D.T. Niles once said, "I am not important except to God."

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