Call of the Wild.

It was my maiden voyage to the weekly 10:00pm Wolfpack Hustle Monday Night Ride; I showed up with my single speed {silly me}.  Fabian (the uberwolf man-child) informed me later at the mid-point rest stop “We all use to show up on fix gears in cut-offs, no helmets,  …  We’ve grown up now.”   He’s telling me this all jacked out in full lycra, riding a carbon geared road bike, focused on making everyone suffer; no mercy.

About 20 riders joined in the pace {single speeds, fixed gears & geared road bikes}; we savaged Sunset Blvd east from Fountain like an urban Iditarod, through the traffic of the city’s night life, past the familiar barrios; Hyperion, Micheltorena, Silverlake, Rampart, Echo Park, Dodger Stadium and North Figueroa, where Sunset becomes Cesar Chavez, then slanted into Chinatown where we headed north.  These guys take to the streets like a wild pack of  semi-tamed Wolf Messengers; the whole road is up for grabs.  FYI: Fabian was in the Wolfpack Hustle Delegation that beat Jet-Blue in the race from Burbank to Long Beach last year; Carmageddon: Bicycle vs. Jet.

This was the hood of my adolescence; I grew up on these sections of Sunset Blvd and to me it had always been flat; until you’re on a single speed trying to hold the wheel of an uberwolf man-cub riding a geared carbon road bike flashing its menacing fangs.  We turned left on Broadway through Chinatown and waited on the bridge that crosses the L.A. River for everyone to regroup.

Before Broadway ends at Huntington Drive you’ve got to crest a quarter mile grade.  We’re climbing the little hill, all the pack fodder coming unglued and I could sense the man-boys who were leading the effort up the ascent, on geared bikes, suffering just a little as they’re showing some strain to keep the pace lit-up.  “No f#$*’n way; you little dick-wads aren’t dropping the old man up this mole hill.”   I went around the first man-cub coming off the pull and grabbed the wheel of the second wolf-pup; I wasn’t going to attack him, I just wanted him to see I still had claws and I wasn’t about to let myself get wolf-punked {yet}.  We crested the top of the grade together and then the little pricks attacked me on the descent.  I didn’t know the terrain, but I was familiar with the tactics.  That little antic over the grade cut me open just a little and I’m certain they could smell the blood.

They were doing 60 miles; Huntington Drive east all the way to Monrovia.  Charlie Gandi came along for the ride and had had his fill by the time we reached Altadena where the Pack regrouped for provisions at Circle-K.  RoadBlock was ready to head home too.  The Pack continued on to Monrovia.  We turned back and covered 36 miles by the time we returned to the start; Sunset & Fountain.  Last Monday the group rode north through Glendale and Flintridge-La Canada to the summit of Mt. Wilson (60 miles / 10:00pm).

It’s a great group of riders and a exhilarating sense of excitement riding the streets of L.A. after dark; at speed.  These guys are well mannered and well attuned to keeping it safe and respectable.

Ahh-wooooooo AnimaUX!