The Goldilocks Ride

I wasn't enthused about the challenging rides on offer today. One was too far away. One was too much like my commute. One was too steep.

One seemed just right: an easy ride with a leader I didn't know, who happens to lead a lot of rides. (Seventy-one this year, including today's.)

I knew it would be short, and I wanted to avoid the regular weekend traffic snarl, so I biked to the start.

The bike lane near the hockey arena (San Jose Sharks) made me smile. How many levels of approval did it take for that? [Maybe none?]

Our small group puttered down the Guadalupe River Trail, exiting for a coffee stop.

After which, well, things pretty much fell apart.

Our ride leader was certain that something had fallen out of her saddle bag and was determined to circle back on the route to look for it. She waved the rest of us forward, to continue on our own.

Without a route sheet.

I stayed with one guy who said he knew how to get back to the park in Willow Glen where we'd started. [Except that ... he didn't actually know.]

Lost in a maze of residential streets, we needed to find a route across the creek. [I pulled out my phone, which he characterized as “cheating.”] But I wanted to get home in time to get cleaned up and head over to the blood center to donate before they closed for the day.

A flat 40 miles, with a mere 440 feet of climbing (including one more wrong turn, my fault).

As it turned out, my timing was just right: The blood center staff had finally overcome some technical (computer system) difficulties that had caused them to turn away walk-ins most of the day. Donation, done!