Some rides are so special, that we’re forced to make our black and white photos of them even blacker and whiter. If we were to tell you this ride was “fun” it would somehow cheapen it. If the pictures showed us giggling like children, then the ride would be for nothing. Because recreational cycling should be a chore. Something that you undertake to make yourself miserable. Because cyclists in the 1930’s looked miserable, and we want to look like cyclists in the 1930’s*. Out on country roads. With the rare Oregon sunshine on your face. Overlooking vistas. Standing in a full size replica of Stonehenge chatting with a guy in camo pants and a pet bird on his shoulder. All miserable. All the time**.
* It should be noted that people in the 30’s didn’t have smartphones or Strava or $300 jerseys or 16lb bikes either. But whatever.
** This ride was actually fucking amazing. But whatever.