Hell Ride

(art stolen from www3.iath.virginia.edu)

The Reverend Whitehair is always thinking of new ways to "enlighten" the local singlespeed congregation, or kill them trying. His latest batch of Kool-Aid was last weekend's Hell Ride. 40 miles of fixed gear flagelation on the roads of Ellicot City and Patapsco with a few forays into the back alleys of self-doubt and despair. Suffice it to say it wasn't easy, but finding salvation never is.

Every great ride has its moment in the twilight zone. A microsecond when reality nods off and loosens it's talons, and for a moment, you're free falling. Mine was on the last mile back to the cars. Joe, Markie, Jonathan, and I were in a pack screaming down the twisting descent of Gunn Road, Markie desperately chasing Joe to try to take the imaginary victory (or at least look good to the girls who were waiting by the picnic shelter). Only to me, in my oxygen-deprived state, it was the Angel Gabriel chasing Satan himself down the road to hell, a demon general on his flank, and me, the weary Dante, reluctantly dragged along for the ride. (alright, I promise to get a life one of these days)

For a more worldly perspective, check out Disciple Spearman's Gospel, or view the Peaks of Hell for yourself.