Not Big Moe your favorite doorman at the Copa, but big momentum.
I ride the forest often, and of those rides nearly 100% of them begin from the parking lot at 0 mph (0 kph for you Euros)and steadily climb to a pace that threatens to bend both time and space- something like 12.5 mph/20.12 kph.
Yesterday, compelled by a collection of inconsequential stressors I shot down the paved St. Marks Trail-intent on riding to the coast, into the water, and down to a deep, brackish sleep to bring to an end all concern for events both virtual and otherwise real. As I approached the turn-off for the Munson trailhead I chose life and tacked into the woods at something like 20mph (32.19 kph) with serendipitously correct tire pressure and a huge head of steam. I banked south onto the East Connector and didn’t slow down until I was somewhere past the Gun Range- miles down the trail.
The surfing naysayers curl their lip at the thought of being towed into a wave. They nay say that it lacks soul. I understand the Siren song though, because sometimes soul lacks speed.
I’m in the market for a four-wheeler.