It’s rare we ride with a destination stop in mind… normally, it’s a place we’ll go into the wind so it can push us home… we stop at convenience stores mostly, or gas stations – anything that will get the water bottles topped off and maybe a snack in the belly. Except when we go to Brighton. Brighton is a destination stop at a bakery that serves coffee.
The start of the ride sucks. Bad asphalt and a lot of up, but once we get off the choppy roads, after six or seven miles, things improve considerably and it just gets better from there.
Somewhere around 20 miles in we hit my old stomping grounds, where I grew up as a kid. I just love riding the familiar roads and feeling “at home”.
There are a couple of exceptional climbs heading into Brighton and I’m in my glory as we pull around the corner at Mt. Brighton – an old landfill converted into a ski hill.
Then into the City of Brighton, Mike was toying with me about going after the Limits sign. I launched off the front to nab it and coasted waiting for everyone else to catch up.
Rolling into downtown, we stop at the bakery for a snack and a drink. Chuck and Mike both choose a cinnamon roll and I go for one as well. My wife gets a chocolate milk and a Coke. That cinnamon roll should probably be illegal…
And after a few laughs and a nice break we rolled out.
My wife was struggling to get going after the break, though she showed significant improvement after she got a few miles to warm up again.
The rest of the ride home was a blast. I ended up with 76 miles and an 18-mph average. Perfect for an extended Father’s Day Sunday Funday.
On returning home, showering and eating, it was nap time and it was glorious. Then, up and about. My wife’s dad and stepmom, up from Tennessee, stopped by and we all went to the local putt-putt golf joint for a family tradition. Putt-putt was awesome and after a six on 17, I had a feeling my wife was crushing me. Everyone had a hole-in-one but me, too. My father-in-law had three for God’s sake. However, I pulled off a miracle shot on 18 and drained a 60’ downhill bank-shot for mine. My wife scored a four or five and I won by a stroke.
Finally, we had our in-laws over for a roast beef dinner that my wife knocked out of the park. My favorite.
Approaching 8pm, my family played a dice game (Zilch) and I fell asleep on the couch. I know I went to bed at some point but I know this only because that’s where I woke up. I slept like a baby.
And so it was, a happy dad’s day indeed.
240 miles for the week in 13.8 hours for an average pace of 17.4 mph. Good times and noodle salad.