Playin’ In The Dirt

Mountain biking today was playful, in a sublime way.  No agenda.  Just the fellas roaming Whiting Ranch.  Doing a little poaching, a little exploring, a lot of teasing.  Being kids, wrinkled with some gray.

Is your helmet silver or is your hair?  Both, turd.

Cactus is so perfect right now.  The recent trail work smoothed out all the braking bumps, and the berms are ace.

Ty hit it hard 4 times in a row… takes a big man to admit he forgot to turn his suspension on for two of the runs.  The other two runs were the exact same time.  He’s skinny, it was easy for him to admit.

Matt could not say enough about his new fully.  It’s so much faster than my hard-tail, forgot what I was missing.  Ty has the same bike… there were so geeked up, felt like I was 5th wheel on a man-date.

Why ooh and ahh at the sunset, when there’s a left behind can of pepper spray to be shot at your buddies?

The dimming light made railing the trails testy.   Hero dirt made up for poor judgment.  Three of us at 9/10ths, wheel to wheel, bouncing off alternate lines of pristine single-track.

Kids, wrinkled with some gray… thankful for health, especially for Ty’s full return.

Salty hair out of pepper spray range.
Salty hair out of pepper spray range.