A town is at its best during any kind of festival. Even someone who dislikes cameras is forced to admit that a long zoom lens can capture interesting faces and situations. But you need chutzpah.
I overheard an older female resident tease a young male cyclist that she loved this time of year because there are so many tight tushies to look at.
The long races on the highways are not of much interest to the general public, but the downtown "Criterium" is. There the pack of two-wheeled daredevils blasts around sharp corners and comes down short but sharp streets at close to 40 mph. There are some truly frightening sounds on the corners or in bumpy sections.
They pull the very wind with them. In the morning it was still calm, and just after the marauding horde passed, white cottonwood fluffballs followed them in a tight paceline, swirling and weaving.
There was an unusual artefact on the sidewalk. Is this loop for horses? How had it survived progress? Why hadn't I noticed it in three or four years of annual visits to Silver City?
There were so many different categories that the race took all day. This gives the spectator a chance to take in the town one more time. I was leaving Silver City soon and was already starting to feel homesick.
I do miss road cycling with clubs. Over my RV career I have had many hours of pleasure riding with folks in Spokane and Mt. Vernon, WA; Portland, OR; St. George, UT; and Yuma. And I miss weighing what I did when I graduated high school, which is the case when I'm in club riding mode.
Ahh dear. Well I've made my choice.
