Twas the night before Fruita and all through the sport. Was mumbings of skiing and bitter retort. We should all be riding but sit here at work, posting on internet how that guys a jerk... When out in the real world I saw a brown spatter, I knew in an instant that mud was the matter... I jumped in my car and prayed it would start, remembered the key turn (I'm just not that smart). The bike on the rack in hopes I could ride. A long rested jersey smelling of Tide. I drove like the wind toward a trailhead near town, just being outside could upturn this frown.
I screamed down the road and pulled into the lot. I knew from the trash pile, this must be the spot. Out in the sunshine I walked "Zippety", bracing inside for what I would see. Ready for bad news as the crabby often are, I saw something new that sent me back to my car. The trails were not muddy and no wet did I find, I knew to go further and one gear I did grind. Up the slow ribbon of trail like a shot, not fast and not flowing but better than not. I was riding again I exclaimed with a shout till I came on some muck and retreated, no doubt.
A short ride for sure on some old familiar steed, But the chance to be rolling was what I did need. Now excited and ready for the season at hand I know for us all this is gonna be grand. So dust of the bike and find some good tread, this season upon us will fix up your head. I know you are ready and passions run deep but watch out for wet spots and north facing steeps. Our trails are our passion may we never forget and ride not when our damage will make us regret. All brothers on bikes on the trail in '07, put winter behind you on a slice of Singletrack Heaven.
See you on the trails... Cheers... Troy; Fruita Colorado USA... forever...
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