MORON

10-03-2006

RRG to International to Northside to Rock Springs FR to Rock Springs ST
to Nora to Matt Davis to Tenderfoot.

OK, so the ride was completely awesome, a top fiver, but it made me sicker. I was feeling pretty good and then I guess riding for four hours in the rain, sleet, snow, and driving wind must have put me over the edge—or maybe that combined with the adrenaline from the pack of wolves stalking us and nipping at our heels all night—or the stress from when they finally got Pete and he succumbed to their gnawing—I’m sad, but I TOLD him to shut the hell up lest they find us….

HELLo. Too much Candy Juice. The riders involved in this wolf-free, Mediterranean climated ride were myself, Ron, Pete, Peter H., Fuzzy (Grunt), Dana, Russell, Big Dave and Karen’s “friend” Larry whom she ditched by not showing up. That’s OK Karen, he liked us ANYway!

RR Grade up, up, up, ……………….argh, ……….up to West Point, small stop for nibble and Peppermint Schnaps courtesy of the Candyman, initiated the virgin with the butane lighter fluid shots, and lost Dave to the night. A funny thing happened here that is a fine commentary on this group. Peter H. over in the corner pulled out some sort of item from his bag that made a crinkly noise and, like the hallucinatory wolves I made up in paragraph #1, the riders ears perked up, eyes became singularly focused laser beams, and tiny pools of saliva formed in the corners of those vacuous mouths, and everybody suddenly had a rather suspicious love for Peter H.

“Hi! You gonna eat that?”

“Whassat?”

“You are strong and fast—what’s in the bag?????”

Up some more to Ridgecrest, then International to THE ROCK for (finally) some real buffet action—but not til you DESERVE it by climbing up this sheer rock face in your Sidi’s, accompanied by dire warnings from Pete—“Don’t Slip Or You’ll Surely Die…But Hurry the Hell Up, Would Ya?”

Well, alrighty then. I pulled out the “girly card” with gay abandon when it came time to get down—hell, if I’m in the woods with 7 strong, handsome men, why would I do anything else? Karen, you can stay home and nurse that cold long as you want!

We then hit the single track with glee in our hearts and 90 proof on our breath. International to Northside to Rock Springs Fire Road with the most beautiful moonlit Potrero Meadows—what a treat—a true reminder of how lucky we are to live here and to have other slightly off-kilter friends who want to ride around in the dark (drunk) (ish) under threat of fines and/or imprisonment. Up to the theater for a quick break where Ron and Pete got more pickled, then to Rock Springs single track in the awesome opposite direction, back to West Point Inn where the fast guys were-a-freezin’ waitin for our slow asses, then down Nora to Matt Davis.

Now, I have never done Nora or Matt Davis and it was super sweet and yummy and great and all those things. Pete will go off on some “4-long-dreadful-years-of-marriage” diatribe about how I would never do these trails if HE asked (he might be right—he’s got a reputation with me—“honey, it’ll be great—you’ll love this trail (Zig Zag, M&M, name your favorite trail that reminds you of dragging your ass through a knothole backwards then stomping on it)—I know you’ve never ridden anything but a BIKE PATH at this point in our relationship, but really, you’ll love it….”

Anyway, I digress. Somewhere while in the clutch of this passionate single-track lovemaking session (“Oh, ………..Nora……baby, yeah, right there ohthatsgood, yeah YEAH! Put that Rock In My Line Girl! DO IT!! YEA!!!” Wait, lest you think I am battin’ for the other team, “Oh Matt! Your TRAIL!! It’s soo………..so……..Skinny and Rough!!!” Phew! I need a cigarette) (*ahem*) I noted that Larry had a flat tire. So, with no further ado, Mo, Curly, Pete, Russel, Peter, Dana, and Eric splayed out across the trail and ingested more kidney-fouling concoctions while Larry wrestled with that god damned&&^^$%#^^&&())_#_((*&+__(*&^^%$$##%ing Wheel for a good long time.

An aside: Dana is happy. Dana is no longer “the new guy”. Dana does not have to do 6 shots of Candy Juice or what-fucking-ever else anybody happens to be packing cause he’s “the virgin” even though he was “the virgin” last time, and the time before that, and the time before that…and so on, and do on…..Funny, though, he never seems to argue about his status as “virgin”—just drinks up and says “Could I have some more please?” Don’t know if it’s the alcohol or if we’re just seeing the real Dana, but he has joined the ever-growing choir of the “Pete-shut the fuck up” singers. Welcome friend, welcome.

Okay, back to our regularly scheduled programming already in progress. Tire fixed, 90% of crew half-blitzed, we head down.

Aside #2: Russell is no longer “that really nice tall guy”. He is an epithet spewing, line-grabbing, trash talking Oprah-aholic (not sure where I got that from….) who just wants to rock that trail and put up the bail (it’s late—sue me).

Mountain home, Tenderfoot….ah, Tenderfoot. The stories come to me as my foggy memory provides more fodder. On the narrow sketchy part with the drop off, I see Peter H bringing his bike back up the hill—and he is WAAAAYYYY down there. Looks intact, okay, moving on. 23 feet later, Larry is found doing the same exact thing. Boys, this ain’t no Huffy Toss! Keep the bikes WITH YOU!

I trash talked about killin’ em’ softly with my ride down Tenderfoot (standing competition between me and the Boldster on Tenderfoot—not entirely sure how it came to pass, but I have this crazy notion that I can beat him down it—I think maybe one time when we rode it he had just had twins or something and I came close to seeing him ahead of me and he lets me think there is a chance just so he can see me in a tree one day).

To the Marin Brew Co for a LATE dinner (nearly 4 hours out there! Awesome!). Fuzzy says that’s probably the most single track we’ve ever done—could be true my friend, could be true!

‘Thanks’ you blokes for making my Tuesday’s tantalizing and tasty!~

Self portrait.

Pete and Dave. We arrived too early, so we waited.

Maggie would have gone, but the threat of rain scared her into the car.

Ron Arrives.

Shaddy pulling in for the A-Ride. Big truck.

Fancy parts on Ron's bike.

A-Riders.

Ride gettting pimped.

It may not be a rainbow, but this is what I call PRIDE.

Shaddy getting ready for the A-Ride. If you know Shaddy, you know he is almost pro level fast. Note that he has had his bare feet made SPD compatable.