Bob Sanchez’ BS

I make it a point to go and see the Bike Shops once a week outside of our Sunday group rides. They’re good people and have plenty to say about matters other than pedals, gears, and equipment.

I doubt that I’ll leave much of an impression on their lives, as they are well-known in the biking world and have enough friends and acquaintances, but I treasure my chances to learn from them.

Mrs. Bike Shop gave me the traditional New Year’s greetings and then said, “Pictures?” in English because I had promised some snapshots from home in exchange for a picture of the Bike Shops. I told her the truth, that I had not snapped a single shot while I was at home. I left that to my family and friends, and they took some great photos, some of which I’m using on this site.

She smiled nonetheless and produced a bike club newsletter with the complete schedule for 2008. I thanked her and returned home without looking at it.

What a surprise when I checked the schedule for January 13th and saw that we would take an “LSD Ride.” It was written on this Japanese newsletter exactly as it appears here: “LSD Ride.”

Now, I’m not silly enough to believe that this actually had anything to do with drugs, and I knew that there would be a reasonable explanation. Japanese people abbreviate things and write out words in English quite casually and often, far outside our use of burrito and laissez-faire.

However, for literary purposes, cue up my giddiest, most bewildered voice: I prepared for the trip, wondering what amazing things we would see, hear, and taste on our LSD ride. Would we shoot up together at the Bike Shop or wait until we got to the top of Magic Mushroom Mountain?

I got to the Bike Shop before anyone else and caught Mr. Bike Shop with a toothbrush in his mouth (they live above the store). “Yo, Mr. Bike Shop, what’s an LSD Ride?”

He informed me that it stands for Long Slow Distance Ride, which in Japanese sounds like “Rong Su-roh Deesutansu Raido.”

He said that we’d be going about 65 miles round trip and that everyone would do the course at their own pace. Which, in this bike club, means that we were probably going 75 miles, the pace would be maniacal, and that I should’ve packed a sleeping bag because I was going to finish a day behind everybody else.

Keeping up with the pack was a lot of work for me, even on flat ground. The wind was in our faces as soon as we turned away from the coast and started the gentle ascent, and I quickly fell behind and lost whatever draft I could have gotten. I climbed steadily until I reached a tourist trap nearly 20 miles out of Kochi and probably got there within two or three minutes of everyone else.

The shop owners had prepared a giant vat of a New Year sweet bean soup and gave each of the riders a bowl. I got a “Wow, you’re good with chopsticks!” from a guy who has heard me detail in Japanese the trials and tribulations of being the group’s caboose. Still gets me!

It’s not LSD, but egg nog sends you on a trip that lasts for weeks. The way that sweat was oozing out of me instead of running like water, I figured I was still feeling some effects of the copious amounts of egg nog that I consumed when I was home for Christmas, so I decided to call it a day and head home.

I would have liked to see whatever it was that we were working toward on the LSD Ride, but I decided a few days ago that there’s no sense in making myself crazy on the bike and pedaling myself blind each time I go out. I don’t have anything to prove; I did that last year by trying this new activity and grinding it out. Until I get a roadie like everyone else, I will probably not accompany them for complete trips.

That will go down as my first LSD trip!