Never follow strangers!

My preparation for my ride is going average at best I have to say.  I was supposed to start riding 5 days per week this week but I had to hold it at 4.  My legs have felt like lead!  I did have a good ride today though.  I also learned something.  Never follow a rider you don't know; expecting them to get you where you want to go.

I got a bit disoriented on today's ride so I started to follow a rider who seemed to be going in the direction I wanted to.  When this happens, and it happens often, the rule is that I'm supposed to call my wife.  The problem with me and rules though is remembering them.  Well I lost my guide and I ended up in the projects', the hood, the barrio around downtown Denver!

As I rode through a group of 6 very large African American men (did I say VERY LARGE!) standing in the middle of the street, wearing blue 'doo rags' I realized that I didn't really blend in.  Nobody else was riding a fancy, red Spanish racing bike, wearing a  Helmet, gloves and goofy, skin tight, Lycra shorts.  Let's please try to forget the image of the milk white legs sticking out of them.  (A little honesty here is in order; even on Lance Armstrong cycling shorts look GOOFY!  The more high tech they are the goofier they look.)

My wife, who is full blooded Mexican, lived part of her childhood in that neighborhood.  Her Dad lived in that neighborhood.  My older sister lived there for several years with her children.  My Dad was brought up not in that neighborhood but just blocks to the north.  Sometimes I have gone there with my wife and her family or my family.  But only StrokeBoy would end up there alone, on a bike, wearing those damn skin tight Lycra cycling shorts and not having a clue how he got there or how to get home.  Thank the Good Lord my shorts are black and not some silly color like pink that you see in the Tour De France.  The only way I could have made this worse is if I had done it in the middle of the night.  Stay tuned because I very quickly unlearn the lessons I learn.

Anyway it all ended fine because I ended up home and I'm writing this.  The part that amuses me is that I almost never remember how I get home, I just end up here.  I'm sure my wife Awesome Chick is just thrilled about that.  I remember a few details of my ride, like today's visit the turf of the Crips, but very little else.  Geese if a cop had seen me I would have probably been arrested for simply being clueless and out of my mind.  No doubt I would have been guilty on all counts and sentenced to life I'm sure.