Bike Church- A group of sadists who hate: riding on solid ground, riding on marked trails, people keeping up with them. Notorious for Sunday morning rides that end sometime on Tuesday. The ride is highlighted by vomiting, mild trespassing, curses sent up to the maker, and 29’ers. Conversation is strictly prohibited. Max rider weight: 121 lbs.
I might be paranoid, or maybe it is the heat, but it seems like every time I leave the house on my bike these days, the wolves are lurking by my door. Wednesday, my normal routine ride is stalked by a bike church rider. Yesterday, I’m sneaking out of the house with Hambone for a nice civilized ride, just a couple hound dogs out for a run, and here comes another wolf riding up to my front door as we walk out. Nervous laughter, a tug on the too tight collar, and off we roll. Luckily he turned off to go to the fish slap (time trial/ dirt crit) and left us alone for our evening sniff around.
I’m thinking that the last time I rode with these dudes in the forest, and lambasted the lot of them for riding like a bunch of OCD sadists, they may actually have developed a strategy to be rid of me. Perhaps I let my mouth write a check my legs can’t cash?
So allow me to clear the air.
When I said the forest and its incessantly sandy trails would look good on fire, I meant in a natural, renourishing way, not by any intention or design. Remember, prescribed fires mean healthy forests! Right?
Also, when I said I would love to ride those trails again- on my new four-wheeler, I was joking! The thought of buying a 250 cc quad and burying it to the axles time and time again on your trail was just a passing notion, not a “plan” per se. Similarly, I do not intend to actually donate time or money to the Offroad Motorcycle Association in order to ban mountain bikes from that part of the forest, just another silly joke guys! Ha-ha I gotcha! Right?
When I said if anyone fell in front of me I would ride over their rear deraileur, and then their knee, I was out of my mind from the heat, (if you scramble the letters in heat it spells hate). I doubt I could have reached any of you before you got up in the first place. Not that I wouldn’t have tried.
I wouldn’t really have filled the salamander traps at the ecological test site with rattlesnakes. I’m scared of rattlesnakes!
I won’t call the police to report crack cocaine sales at the Fish Slap anymore.
I’ll stop saying you ride the forest because you can’t handle “real” trails.
I will fire my team of investigators working to prove you are all on the juice.
I will hock the AK-47.
Just call off the wolves, and I promise I will straighten up.