The "new" bike.
Brothers Bock do the pre-ride stuff. Note Bill's killer late 60's 8-speed(!) collegiate. Little did anyone know how strong an entry Bill and his green machine would prove to be pushing our wrecking crew to a first place finish. Did I mention it was not a race.
The look of determination, anger and strength. Joe and Bill put on their race face. Note Grand Central Station rotting away in the background.
The ride eventually wound through the Heidelberg project. The entire procession of 2000 riders stop to take a peek at the art. I can't believe people actually lobbied to have the place bulldozed. 
The Wasp and I enjoy a moment of lens time in front of the orange house.
Tyree Guyton himself was there to answer any questions. It was great watching the puzzled suburbanites take in Tyree's creation. When was the last time you were able to ride through a work of art? 
Mid-day break near Belle Isle. 2000 riders wait in line for the chance to use one of the four Porto pots. Other than that the event ran like a well oiled bike.
The first place team awaiting the final 10 mile charge to the finish. Little did they know what we had in store for them. The girl with wicker basket proved to be a tough cookie but we were eventually able to break her. 
The spoils of victory. Joe, Chris, Bill and Steve await the delivery of the trophy.
1700 riders, 30 miles of downtown road, a rider who has not ridden in nearly 10 years and one 60 year old bike. We started near the end of the pack, worked as team (not really), laughed out loud at some of those uptight pedal people and managed to roll the Wasp across the "finish" first! Yes, it was not a race but let me tell you the last 13 miles were intense (in a casual way). I was elbowed, pushed and bumped in the last 5 miles; people definitely wanted that first spot why I have no idea? But once I got it I could not give it up until the end which for us was a quick bail out past the police escort and a b-line to Slows.
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