It is December 6 and here, high in a mountain valley, there should be a foot or more of snow on the side of the road.
But not. Again today we could ride dry pavement through the crisp late fall air. The skiers and the farmers are not
particularly amused by the dearth of white stuff, but a handful of die-hard cyclists celebrated with a longish ride.
So with the scenery merely gray and dreary, featuring naked branches against a leaden sky, I decided to focus the
camera on my recently completed ride, a Spanish Razesa.
Excuse the footwear, so very uncool, but hiking boots with two pairs of rag socks and plastic bag liners are the ticket
when the daytime highs are around 32 degrees, and all the spare cash is spent on vintage components instead of proper
cycle wear. Taking my gloves off to handle the camera was a near invitation to frostbite.
