One day, under most unexpected circumstances, Bike met Tree. Their attraction was undeniable. Sadly, just like these star-crossed couples before them -
Romeo and Juliet,
Lancelot and Guinevere,
Bert and Ernie (c’mon now, you know it)
- their relationship was not meant to be. Bike’s parents forbid him to see Tree. Tree’s friends thought Bike wasn’t good enough for her. Joanie Loves Chachi it certainly wasn’t.
Why couldn’t they make it work?!
Well, because Bike and Tree come from such drastically different worlds. Bike is cold steel, rubber, spokes and all manner of whirring, blingy bits. Tree is solid, warm wood, an earthy, country type. Bike is unpredictable, prone to flights of fancy, destined to roll on from place to place; Tree is dependable, stern and stationary, content to silently keep vigil over the timber.
Their budding relationship ended abruptly and violently, just as it began, with a kiss that left Bike broken and Tree forever scarred….
So….anyways….you know that new jump at the Center?
The one with the rutted out landing patch?
Yeah, the one you’d better get your front tire up for on the landing….
Well… on last week’s Taco ride I hit the jump too slow, I didn’t get the front tire up enough and landed with the front tire in the rut. Bike bucked forward, this might have been manageable except I came unclipped from both peddles at the same time. Now I’m shuffling down the trail, in comical fast-forward, with my front wheel almost directly underneath me. Bike had essentially turned himself into a bucking bronco of a unicycle. That Bike, he can be a real @#$% sometimes. At least this circus clown spectacle was ended quickly by introducing Bike to nearby Tree. Bike kissed Tree with his handlebar, but she firmly rejected his advances.
As for me, I did a wonderful matador OLE’! move and spun out of the way with only the very upper part of my thigh contacting Tree. I am happy to say that, while the upper thigh sustained some minor damage, my downtown district was completely unscathed.
This was very good news for the residents of downtown as they are rather sensitive to being smashed with a tree.
Being pleased with my survival, I dusted myself off, hoped back on Bike and peddled off to finish the rest of the Squirrel’s Nest trail. About halfway through Nest I noticed my front brake had been spun down and behind the bar. That was an easy, twist it back into place, fix and we were off again. Next up was the Rhythm trail; we rounded the corner and started into the rough stuff when my left grip snapped off in my hand.
Carbon fiber doesn’t dent like aluminum or steel, it cracks and snaps, often times with no warning. This was one of those times. Truth is I got really lucky that it snapped when it did instead of any number of places I had just ridden, including a teeter totter stunt (don’t tell my wife).
Being damn-near Grizzly Adams, I did what any mountain man would do and (with the help of Bart and Nick) fashioned a stick splint for my handlebar.
Our Jeremiah Johnson handy work was good enough to get me back to the shop and to the local watering hole for many well-earned barley sodas.
Bike, my advice to you is forget Tree. She’s no good for you man.