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Author Topic: Riposte: Old Postal 20 - 22 December 2019 (Warning: Very Wordy)  (Read 269 times)

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Offline Ri

Riposte: Old Postal 20 - 22 December 2019 (Warning: Very Wordy)
« on: January 02, 2020, 11:47:41 pm »

I planned a hot, gasping, sweaty, steamy weekend.

Then permission slips are revoked and the Cederberg hike is off. A party of winy women plan to smoke up my patio with braai and cigarettes on Saturday, and I already took half day leave for Friday. Stuff that, Iím going to the Cederberg anyway.

Bucket list routes scroll through my thoughts. Old Postal? I could camp at Oasis and if someone plans to ride Old Postal, try to join them. I toy with the idea of going it alone, but Iím not (that) foolhardy. I do however feel slightly ashamed of saddling some poor sods with my slow-riding self.

Uncharacteristically, I post a short WhatsApp to a biking group that Iím going to Oasis and maybe ride Old Postal. Due to the very short notice, Iím surprised when Keith (@ultraflight) straight away asks whether he can join me, and how many riders are going. More than welcome, I assure him; just the two of us.

Keith would prefer 4 or so riders as itís more social and in case of a breakdown, to distribute luggage and pillion a rider. My plan is to leave my luggage at Oasis and ride a loop. As to breaking downÖ he rides a KLR650 and I ride a DR650: bullet-proof bikes if ever there were any. A breakdown is not impossible, but it isnít likely.

But I agree that he can post an invite on the group, and soon we have a bunch of whiny wishicouldaís and 2 more takers. I feel a tingle of excitement. Iím going to face Old Postal, following in the tyre tracks of my girl rider crush, @Minxy.

Too late on Thursday night I start packing, and notice Blueís recently thrice-patched front tube is flat again. I swear under my breath. Clearly we did a bang-up job - not - but at least it got me home.

If Iíd washed the bike, as I solemnly undertake to do after every ride, I might have noticed sooner. Thankfully Jťhan, who car pools with me and now is also riding his bike to work, is bringing chain lube in the morning. I fire off a late SOS, drag a few stumps of wood into the garage, and go to sleep.


Friday morning at 4:30 I drag my unrested body out of bed. At 05:00 I grumpily open the garage door to a chirpy Jťhan. He tips Blue while I position the wooden stumps under the bash plate for support. We do the same with Gentleman, the wheel donor bike. With Jehanís help I wrestle the front wheels off of both bikes and swap them around. Iíve never appreciated having donor DR650ís more than this morning.

I struggle to get the axle through the wheel and aligned to the other fork to grab the thread, but with some manhandling and woman swearing, it finally tightens. Despite my tiredness, Iím delighted - I love spannering.

Soon we are on our way, heading down the N2 into town.

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