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B C Montain Biking

Things can go down hill quickly

semi-overcast 2 °C

My son undid the lock to his rickety back shed. The bottom of the door sanded off another millimeter of wood against the heaved paving stone. Inside are his treasures; A long pointy kayak to compete in, a stubby C-1 (about six feet long) and a couple of mountain bikes. The one that caught my eye was a super duper heavy duty one. I could see that Schaun wanted me to pick the dirty, ratty looking one in the corner. "Where's your lid" I asked. He reluctantly gave me his helmet. Back home I have an almost new Walmart mountain bike and helmet. I knew Schaun's good friend Hasen; a world famous mountain biker had given Schaun one of his old rides. I was going for a ride in the Rockies on a seven thousand dollar bike, well used but it made my ride at home look like a cheap knock off. My son went to work.
Now you have the background. Silly old fart on an expensive bike.
B C s mostly up hill. I huffed and puffed my way past some very beautiful country side.
I came to a ridge with a large road at the bottom bounded by a creek on the far side. Full of confidence I took a short cut down the slope. Alright it was a steep slope fifty sixty degrees but pretty open, mostly. I kick off over the edge. The front wheel drops into the dry grass and weeds. I sit back both feet on the pedals, butt firmly clenching that tiny little seat. Suddenly I'm doing fifty miles a minute. I'm a quarter of the way down when I pull on the rear brake. The rear wheel dutifully locks up and slides gracefully along the dry grass. It begins a drift to the left. I give the front brake a squeeze. The front wheel stops, and slides. I go off a little jump quite unintentionally. By now the suddenly busy road is getting closer. I twist the bike to the side, jam both wheels into some brush and mow it down. I point myself on the other diagonal bounce over some mountain scree. Before I can bail out I hit the gravel road bank. Even with seven thousand dollar shocks my feet compress on the pedals and the bike seat becomes my new internal friend. I bounce and somehow my downward fall is transformed into moving parallel to the road. In spray of gravel I let go of the rear brake. Not only have I lived but it looked good! No sweat I do t all the time. I need to go pee pee. There is a picture of me a couple of minutes later. The sunglasses hide my eyes bugging out. The silly old fart escapes unharmed. Thank you mountain spirits! P

Posted by patgoodeve 13:41 Archived in Canada

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