Tweed Rides and Hail Stones

Last Sunday Jake and I went on our first Tweed Ride. They started in London a few years ago and have spread slowly like a woolen virus. The LA ride is in late February or early March and has a different route every year. We ride  together in a peloton of politeness about 100 strong I think. It's all knickerbockers and plus-fours, jaunty caps and spats. We ride, but mostly we see and are seen. There is drinking at the end.

Looks like he's going on a caper

Storming the gates of Heritage Square

Dashing Frank Hall and lovely Sally Little

With the always gorgeous Karin McKechnie. Notice the lowering skies!

Pardon me, but is this 1905, or did we miss a stop?

There was every kind of bicycle, really old Raleigh's, swell Schwinns and runcible Rudges (actually I didn't see any Rudges, cuz if it doesn't budge it's a Rudge!) Some fancy Pashleys and Flying Pigeons too.
And finally a sudden hail storm of epic proportions. I know, most of the country is up to it's mutton chops in snow, but we don't usually get "weather" and sudden weather too.
Sure it's all "Good day to you Sir"  in fancy knee breeches until you get soaked.
Luckily, Jake had a Mylar emergency blanket which I tied around my neck and flapped behind me like a super hero cape. We rode like the wind and didn't spare the horses (mixed metaphors intended).
We loved it.

You would have worn it too, had you been there.

 A few people asked me about my riding skirt, it's a Truly Victorian 1901 split skirt pattern, bicycle length.
So many shenanigans. I think it's time for a breather.

Ever Your Thimble Servant,
Miss Brilliantine