It was October sunshine rarely ever seen with temperatures to compare. A cloudless sky greeted us as we reached the Gun Lake park. We hold this ride every year and this time there were enough people that I didn't have time to count.

It was October sunshine rarely ever seen with temperatures to compare. A cloudless sky greeted us as we reached the Gun Lake park. We hold this ride every year and this time there were enough people that I didn't have time to count.
A few years ago, I think this past February, I received an email from a strange woman. She had just moved with her husband and kids from Las Vegas, into the winter of Michigan, and was asking advice about cycling in the area. Curiously she claimed to have a garage full of Rivendell's, said she had never ridden more than 17 miles at a time and wasn't sure how well she could ride. Sounded simple, I put her in touch with a woman from our Kalamazoo Bicycle Club and figured she'd find a way to fit in, somewhere.
This seemingly innocent suburban housewife (Leah Peterson) was secretly plotting to become the High Priestess of an an infamous Rivendellian Granfalloon.
At our bike club meeting last month, a number of us were invited to talk about practical cycling. Oddly enough, with hundreds of thousands of miles in the collective saddle, most club members don't understand that option. One ;thing that sounds ponderous to people is grocery shopping. Most people are incredulous to hear that it is simpler on a bike.
Arriving at the store by bike, rather than searching the acres of Autogeddon for a safe looking parking place or walk the distance to the store,