Post by aj1152 on Oct 13, 2009 11:19:32 GMT -8
This is a long post, so here's the summary: Spokane cycling is WAY BETTER than Santa Barbara cycling...
I'm on vacation in Santa Barbara (SB). I know, it's a tough life. But get this: while there's tons of riders all over, there's very few cyclists. I've often said, "The world needs more riders and less cyclists," but this town could seriously use an injection of EPO and carbon.
Before I arrived, I looked online for any SB clubs. I found a couple of tri clubs (not my style), a couple of women-only groups (don't qualify) but only one or two general bike clubs. When I got here, I tried a direct approach; I stopped into several bike shops; I cruised the main drag keeping an eye out for cleated pedals; I went back online and tried all kinds of keywords to search for. But there's nothing.
So this morning I headed out to go on the only group ride that I could find (hazardscyclesport.com/Rides.cfm). It was sprinkling and overcast so I figured only the hardcore riders would show. And that's a good thing; I didn't want a group of "I paid $6,000 for this bike but use it as garage decoration," riders.
Can you guess who was the only rider to show? Yup: me. So I wait a few minutes then decide to roll out on my own. A mile or so later I see a couple of bikes that meet my criteria for "good riders" (nice, but not too nice) leaning against a wall outside a coffee shop. I figure, "what can it hurt?" and go on in. There was two University of California Santa Barbara students there, were fun folks, and told me I could join them. So I did. In the rain.
And just when you're feeling pretty good about yourself--you've found a group to ride with, you're on your bike, it's raining but it's not too cold--one of the guys says this, "Can you give us some tips for riding in the rain? I mean, it never rains here and we don't know how to do this..."
Holy crap! It hits me hard that this is an unintended insult. They live in paradise, can ride year round, but the week I come here the skies open up and they're lining up two of each animal! What are the chances?!
Eventually we part ways (they say something about it getting a little too hairy for them. Sure the wind was 25 mph and the storm drains were overflow, but I'm on vacation! I'm riding, dangit!) and I roll on by myself. I eventually see a bike shop and think, "one more try at finding a group ride." So I roll in dripping from head to toe, and there's two employees looking at me. I ask, "Do you know of any club rides in town?" Blank stares for a moment then one of them perks up. "No. Ask the owner. He's over there." So I walk over with my bike. He looks up from his computer and gasps, "Whoa!" but not like a you're-getting-my-shop-wet! whoa. He was--honestly--looking at my bike, my wet and road-grit splattered SRV kit, and thought, "This guy's crazy!"
I ask, "Do you know of any club rides in town?" A blank stare. I try a different approach. "You know, group rides?...people meeting up to ride together?..." He squints at me for a second and then says, "No. I don't. Try the shop a couple blocks over. They might know of some."
What. The. Heck?! Where are the cyclists in this town?
Santa Barbara has one more chance to redeem itself on Thursday. I'm going to show up at the Santa Barbara Roasting Company at 7:50 a.m. and if those fair-weather cyclists don't answer my call, don't put-out or shut-up, then I'm...well, I don't know what I'll do. I guess I'll ride by myself. Humphf.
Spokane, you rock. Santa Barbara, you're a pansy. Rain, you stink. My bike, hope you're not angry at me.
I'm on vacation in Santa Barbara (SB). I know, it's a tough life. But get this: while there's tons of riders all over, there's very few cyclists. I've often said, "The world needs more riders and less cyclists," but this town could seriously use an injection of EPO and carbon.
Before I arrived, I looked online for any SB clubs. I found a couple of tri clubs (not my style), a couple of women-only groups (don't qualify) but only one or two general bike clubs. When I got here, I tried a direct approach; I stopped into several bike shops; I cruised the main drag keeping an eye out for cleated pedals; I went back online and tried all kinds of keywords to search for. But there's nothing.
So this morning I headed out to go on the only group ride that I could find (hazardscyclesport.com/Rides.cfm). It was sprinkling and overcast so I figured only the hardcore riders would show. And that's a good thing; I didn't want a group of "I paid $6,000 for this bike but use it as garage decoration," riders.
Can you guess who was the only rider to show? Yup: me. So I wait a few minutes then decide to roll out on my own. A mile or so later I see a couple of bikes that meet my criteria for "good riders" (nice, but not too nice) leaning against a wall outside a coffee shop. I figure, "what can it hurt?" and go on in. There was two University of California Santa Barbara students there, were fun folks, and told me I could join them. So I did. In the rain.
And just when you're feeling pretty good about yourself--you've found a group to ride with, you're on your bike, it's raining but it's not too cold--one of the guys says this, "Can you give us some tips for riding in the rain? I mean, it never rains here and we don't know how to do this..."
Holy crap! It hits me hard that this is an unintended insult. They live in paradise, can ride year round, but the week I come here the skies open up and they're lining up two of each animal! What are the chances?!
Eventually we part ways (they say something about it getting a little too hairy for them. Sure the wind was 25 mph and the storm drains were overflow, but I'm on vacation! I'm riding, dangit!) and I roll on by myself. I eventually see a bike shop and think, "one more try at finding a group ride." So I roll in dripping from head to toe, and there's two employees looking at me. I ask, "Do you know of any club rides in town?" Blank stares for a moment then one of them perks up. "No. Ask the owner. He's over there." So I walk over with my bike. He looks up from his computer and gasps, "Whoa!" but not like a you're-getting-my-shop-wet! whoa. He was--honestly--looking at my bike, my wet and road-grit splattered SRV kit, and thought, "This guy's crazy!"
I ask, "Do you know of any club rides in town?" A blank stare. I try a different approach. "You know, group rides?...people meeting up to ride together?..." He squints at me for a second and then says, "No. I don't. Try the shop a couple blocks over. They might know of some."
What. The. Heck?! Where are the cyclists in this town?
Santa Barbara has one more chance to redeem itself on Thursday. I'm going to show up at the Santa Barbara Roasting Company at 7:50 a.m. and if those fair-weather cyclists don't answer my call, don't put-out or shut-up, then I'm...well, I don't know what I'll do. I guess I'll ride by myself. Humphf.
Spokane, you rock. Santa Barbara, you're a pansy. Rain, you stink. My bike, hope you're not angry at me.
Have to say I liked the Noah's Ark reference too 
