The Tri County Ride By Phil Ayvazian Yes, 13 LIBCers and one interloper sang "Hail to the Gauntlet" after finishing the Tri-County, for all who ride it marvel at how beautiful a ride he has mapped out. El Jefé, Ernest, Glenn, George, Haroldo, Sheba, John, Grick(?), Mike, Alan, Gail, Maria and Phil all went up to Westport for a second straight week (the Bloomin' Metric was the week before) to do the ride. While we were singing the fourth chorus of the theme song, another rider came along and was so impressed with our harmony that he decided to join us. He was a good rider and good company and obviously appreciated the improvised counterpoint between one of the tandem riders and George.

So with the caveat "that if you pass the leader you will be negotiating the wilderness of Connecticut alone" we set out. Down Church Hill with no casualties and along the grossly misnamed Poverty Hollow Road we happily went. Throughout, above the din, could be heard Gail badgering and hectoring Alan about one thing or another - "weasel", "shrew", reference to ethnic groups and body parts - all very amusing. Sheba was asking for the "terrible hill" but she would change her tune later.

Lunch was in Bridgewater Corners. As usual, the bathroom wasn't working and then they ran out of tap water so we were forced to put Sam Adams in our water bottles (not Coors, Coquette!), and dig our own latrines. Was Gaunt somehow getting back at the LIBC (for some unknown reason?) Then Mr. Flat Tire (name withheld) came down with another one and it was discovered that John tightened every bolt on his bike, car and house except for his Campy crankbolt. They (Sheba, Brick (?) and John) went searching for an 8mm wrench and found one somewhat down the road but had to find their own way back. More hills, including one that went on forever, that some had forgotten about. And then back to McGhie-land, but not before some tremendous displays of maturity between Alan and one of the tandem riders (shame on you Maria!). Haroldo, upon approaching McGhie-land said, "I don't want to participate in this McGhie stuff." So they finished at a break-neck pace that would have made Tortuga McGhie proud. The lost crankbolt trio came wandering in; George had to get home to cook; Mike had to light the barbecue, and Gail continued her diatribes. Maria said "never again" (for a fifth time) and Ernest was given a delicious cookie. One last thanks to the Gauntlet. See this one again in October.