The first day of our excursion, Dave and I left work to get some lunch and didn't come back. We snuck out of there with our heads held high. An hour later, we met at Ken's house. Ken had also invited Joe, a friend of his from Connecticut. Among the bikes and camping supplies, Ken included a converted baby buggy with long handles. With the gear packed and loaded into two trucks, our next stop was the Montezuma Wildlife Refuge near Cayuga Lake. Arrangements had been made to park the vehicles near there. We unloaded the four bikes and the converted baby carriage. This contraption attached to his bike so Ken could carry all our camping supplies. Dave turned to me and said, "In case I forgot to mention it, Ken can carry all your stuff so you don't need to buy all the extra equipment for cross country biking." I explained how I normally ride my bike carrying more stuff than the astronauts took on the moon landings. "It helps keep my bike on the road and prevents excessive speeding up hills."

We were four men who, long ago, had traded in our six-pack abs for pony kegs. We recognized hair as a useless, high maintenance commodity. This was a three day weekend away from jobs, family and social acceptance. Everything was set, we were ready to ride.

Cruising along for about twenty miles, a cool breeze was gathering strength; dark clouds were coming over the horizon. In the distance on my right, a lighting bolt streaked white against the dark gray mass behind it. Soon another bolt struck a little closer about the time I felt the first raindrop hit my fingertip. At least I hope it was a raindrop. The rain grew heavier, we approached a sign that read Swedish Hill Winery - 2 miles. Lightning was now striking to my left. I thought to myself, "The worst of this quick storm is over." Nope, lightning was also still hitting to our right as well. Dave rode up next to me and remarked, "Nothing to worry about, we're riding on rubber tires, they'll insulate us from lightning. Of course they'll sizzle and melt so fast that when our metal rims hit the road, we'll be fried so quickly we'll never feel it." Optimists piss me off.  After about 3 miles, I could see the winery in the distance. The rain got steadier, little riverlets were forming on the side of the road, our gear was getting heavier but thank goodness we were traveling uphill. By this point the pelting rain had us drenched. Looking down, I saw the hair on my arms through my long sleeved shirt. This was not my imagined fantasy of a wet t-shirt contest.

The rain finally stopped as we pulled our bikes into the winery driveway. Inside, we selected a Port wine to go with the evening's dinner. Outside, it started raining again. The Port and a pack of crackers turned into an excellent brunch. Making our way back to the bikes, we saddled up ready for the next leg. The rain had stopped again long enough for us to get too far down the road to turn around again. The Port made us warm inside and it was all downhill back to the main road. Half drunk hypothermia on a speeding bike is an exhilarating feeling. Our clothes stopped dripping by the time we stopped at the next winery.

Lakeshore Winery had a completely different feel than the first winery. You walk into a gift shop which opens into a rustic tasting room. Dave's glass was half full, Ken's was half empty, Joe's was too big for the amount of wine offered, and mine was empty. I learned that asking for refills isn't suggested with every wine poured for tasting.

One of the special features of their wine tasting is an offer of food that could accompany each wine. Each morsel was bite size. Now that we had enough food to consider it lunch by a vote of three to one, we got back on the road.

Goose Watch Winery is another fun place. The tasting room is more modern with oak decor. Best of all, they had a deck out back that overlooked the lake. They also had a big, strong bench and we finally sat down without having to move our legs. That's when Ken decided to use my leg for soft, comfortable chair. At least my right leg was getting good blood-flow. However, I ended up riding around in about nine circles in the parking lot before the arteries reopened. Once my left leg regained some feeling, I caught up to the rest of the pack.

Wine tasting is a gracious event. Everyone's preferences vary, so wineries offer you some of their product to try before purchasing. Wine tasting is traditionally a free service. You don't need a full glass, just enough for about three sips. The first sip cleanses the palate, the second is the real taste, the third sip reinforces doubt or approval of the wine. Normally about five different wines are offered and the maximum amount consumed at each tasting equals about one full glass of wine. Still, we were kidding around about getting a BUI: Biking Under the Influence. In reality, not only were we burning off the alcohol before it had any significant effect, it took us a while to ride between the Tasting Rooms. At least that was the case until our last winery of the day

We entered a posh, almost snooty winery. Two other people were at the tasting counter dressed in their preppy best. The employee behind the counter was an older gentleman dressed in a nice suit. Thanks to the heals on his dress shoes, he could actually see over the counter. Despite the initial impression of anal-retentiveness, the gentleman was very pleasant and excited about his wines. I stood at the left end of the counter, Dave next to me, Ken and Joe stood next to the couple.

On the first pour our glasses almost got damp. The sample of the second wine was more of a splash than a pour. I think the third wine wasn't actually poured, instead, the bottle was just waved over my glass. Dave looked at me in panic.

I moved decisively to save my friends from a looming sobriety. The couple on the end were attempting to hold an intellectual conversation with the gentleman. We were in no mood to work that hard on a weekend. I looked forward and realized all the tasting bottles were right there in front of my face. Dave's glass was once again half full, Ken's was half empty, Joe's was too big for the amount of wine offered, and mine was empty. The conversation between the couple and the taster paused and the next wine was dribbled lightly into each of our glasses. That task done, the conversation resumed. Dave leaned forward to block the view, I grabbed the tasting bottle and filled our glasses so we all had enough wine to taste, gargle and gulp. The cycle of vintner espionage continued through the rest of the set. We started with a gentle chardonnay with light coloring and subtle hints of apricot. By mid round we were into the sweeter white wines like Rieslings and a couple more that went down real smooth and fast before the guy turned around. Eventually we finished on some red stuff that made us pucker up all funny faced.

The winery still came out ahead that day. Once we could get enough wine to taste, the wines were quite good. Dave and I whipped out the all purpose VISA cards and stocked up. Walking out with a couple of bottles to enjoy after dinner and possibly breakfast, we headed out to the bikes.
"Well that was our last winery for the day."
"why"
"They all close at five"
"What time is it?"
"4:40pm"
"How fast can you pedal?"

Just as the sun was setting we wearily rolled into a campground. Dumping our gear, we were ready for food, any food. We weren't picky, just starving. Sweaty, dirty, soggy from the rain, we rode another mile down the road to a nearby dining establishment. We parked our bikes next to a limousine and walked into the five star restaurant. This was the nearest restaurant, it was the only restaurant. Despite appearances and subtle odor, we were greeted by a friendly hostess. The special treatment began immediately as we were given a quick tour of the kitchen rather than bothering to walk through the main dining area. We were seated at a corner table near the window, the view would have been incredible in the daylight.

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