A bowl of pasta, a strong cup of black coffee, and I lit the fuse. Right from Mystery’s driveway I began to press the tempo. I chatted and yukked it up maintaining an air of indifferent nonchalance as King and Kong ( my thighs- duh)began dropping the twin turbo trip hammers of pain.

The rain blew in fast. The air alive with the burnt ozone smell of electricity, the fuse in my body sizzled towards destiny. “Come on”, I said, “It’s not raining that hard, and Squatch will be at the trailhead”. This was one ride I intended to finish. Darkness, rain, high voltage- whatever.

The first fifty yards of the trail told the story- wet, grabby, fast. Sssssssss! burned the fuse.
He jumped, I was right on his wheel. Squatch, mistaking this for a ride with friends, disappeared momentarily off the back.

I had it. He was done. He couldn’t shake me.

I was going to eat him alive, I just had to pick a salad dressing.

Curling around the backside of Munson, most awesome of all forest trails, I finally yawned it into the big ring to start the slaughter. Squatch disappeared again, Mystery began the feeble kicks of a dying animal.

Bleu Cheese sounds nice, yes a little crumbled on the side would be great.

“What’s this?” “A little sand covered in a paste of rain?” “Concrete encasing my wheels?”

The fity pounds of air in my tires had proven a dicey but genius move early in the ride, but now, well- it was too late to do anything but press on. King tired! Kong getting hungry!

Ka BOOM! The bright colors were in my eyes, the fizzling sound of ripping paper- my gasping breath. The wall, the redline, the crack – call it what you want it all goes to the same place.

The end of the line.

For a while it sure was pretty though.

to be continued…


6 Responses to Ka BOOM!

  1. You may not like road bikers’ A and B rides. But at least we don’t go out for rides with out friends and evily drop their asses just because we can.

  2. S’quatch was born in the forest, he is quite comfortable alone with his thoughts. Besdies, before it was over I was the one left behind. Munson is a closed 8 mile circuit so nobody gets dropped for long.

  3. Who is sascha kidding? When the flag drops on any roadie group ride, A through Z, the goodness in our hearts turns to madness and the hurt fest begins. Those whose pain tolerance is mild will catch up when they can. I’m a roadie, a nice guy by most people’s standards but I sure love to hear the “pop” of riders, friends or not, going off the back when I’m on the front.

  4. Here we go again….. indeed.

    Bleurggh…. thats the sound of a UK mtb blogger seeking inspiration and tossing it off on here instead……..

    Can’t go out for a ride as I’m sat here waiting for one of the pootle crew to come back and finish installing my outdoor tap….

    and it’s damn humid

    here to writers block! Cheers

    Fat Lad