A gift from E B G

I awaken early to the sound of rain hitting the roof. I get up anyway, hoping that the weather will clear by the time I leave. I don't mind a little drizzle or light rain while on the ride, but I'm not anxious to leave the warm, dry cocoon of indoors when it's raining outside with little hope for clearing. At 7:00a, I head over to the Cultural Center, which is the official start of the club ride. Of course no one is there. I guess all the Western Weenies are tucked in bed. The sun has come out. I think it'll be a great day. (In fact I didn't get rained on all day.) The plan is to ride over to Union City BART, take BART to San Francisco, and then ride over to the San Francisco Bay Model Museum and meet Mark Chandler (chand...@wc.novell.com) at 10:30a for a ride up Mt. Tamalpias via the Old Railroad Grade. The trip to Sausilito should take about 3 hours more or less. I have allowed an extra half-hour in my time estimates in case we (I) miss a train and/or get a flat. With that in mind, I return home to get my long gloves in case I get caught in a cold rain. By the time I finally set off for good, it is 7:32a. Since I've used up my time margin, I take the quick and sometimes ugly way down University Ave. out to Bayfront Expressway. The ride over the Dumbarton Bridge and up Paseo Padre and Decoto to the Union City BART passes quickly and without incident. A few minutes after I arrive on the platform, a train arrives. While on BART, I see a very large raincloud heading down the peninsula. The wind is blowing stiffly from the west-northwest, so I don't think it'll get me. After exiting at the Embarcadero Station, I race a cable car up California Street to Taylor at the top of Nob Hill. Since it's still early, traffic is light. The tourists all look at me as if I'm nuts riding my bike here. I turn right and head down and then steeply up and steeply down again to Filbert Street. On Taylor a taxi-cab with a woman passenger passes. The woman turns and stares as I struggle up the steep hill. She looks like her head is sewn on backward as she stares until the taxi crests at the next block and disappears down the other side. I turn left on Filbert and climb to Leavenworth, but the very steep next block to the top of Russian Hill is one-way in the other direction. After snapping a picture of the "wall", I take a look around for police cars and other traffic and begin the ride up. There is only one lane going down, and cars are parked perpendicular on the other side, leaving plenty of space for a bicycle or the woman doing her morning exercises walking up and down the block. A photographer is poised at the top taking a picture down the hill. I get maybe 10 feet up the hill and my front wheel lifts off the ground. I try standing and throwing my weight as far forward as I can, but it's no use. After a brief struggle, the bike bucks me off the rear. I have to walk; the hill is too steep for me to ride. I suppose it doesn't help that my bike is very rear-heavy. This helps somewhat on steep downhills, but is a pain on uphills. It's nearly impossible for me to ride up grades steeper than about 20%.

Another cycling story? Hmm!