Sir Prattipus and I got out and rode our two-wheeled love machines this morning. We got up at the ass crack of dawn and gave it our best. We rode my favoritest of trails Paradise and then hit the Barrel Ride and ended with another one of my favorites, Bear Claw Poppy. In my defense, my biggest gripe with Paradise is how short it is and we linked it to two not so close trails making it part of a bigger ride and therefore worth riding. Defense rests.
The temperature was perfect this morning which is good since it wasn’t later on in the day. The legs felt good, I didn’t forget my lungs and it was a nice ride. I even enjoyed bombing down Bear Claw Poppy Road.
Prattipus apparently forgot we lived in the desert and only brought one water bottle so we had the joy of finding water along the route. This only added to our adventure. And if you are into making cycling difficult, is a great way to almost die.
Along the ride I got to thinking, as we were grinding up the Barrel Ride and the heat was melting my skin, about my pack. This may seem like and odd think to be thinking about and I would agree. However, the thought process was more along the lines of, “Damn, I have been riding this trail for a long time” and “Man, how many different bikes have I owned since that first ride?” Which of course brought me full circle to thinking about things that haven’t gone the way of the fleabay. In my cycling gear corral there aren’t many thing that are still there after a year of purchase. My pack is one of the things that has stayed.
My pack is an Ergon. You don’t see these out on many rides. There are few people that have them and they kind of fly under the radar. Ergon is much better know for its grips, which I don’t use. However, I love my pack. I can do a 7.5 hour death march and at the end of the day my shoulders feel like they haven’t even had a pack on them. When I am shredding the gnar, as I am accustomed to do, the pack is stable and allows me to move freely. Both things I find extremely important.
So if you are looking for a good pack. Check ‘em out.
After my deep thoughts about the passing of the sands of gear through my hands and finishing our ride. I was starving. What is a man to do? Get some Roberto’s. It’s hard to screw up cheap Mexican food and this spot is on my way home. But they went above and beyond and screwed up cheap Mexican food. I’m not complaining, but I found what was done to be over the top and hilarious.
I’m particular about food, in the sense that I don’t eat flesh. Other than that it’s pretty much open to everything. So any time I am at one of these dives, I make sure to tell them what I want in my breakfast burrito. Kathleen also happens to like beans in her breakfast burrito, which after trying one is really pretty delicious. So I ask for a eggs, potato, bean and cheese burrito times two. Order my drinks and pull forward.
The girl gave me my burritos and asked what drinks I had ordered, Mtn Stew and Horchata. Oh great, I got some orange shit and Horchata. I get my burritos and the receipt/change and head home. As I am pulling out of the parking lot I glance at the receipt and notice that there is an extra charge for potatoes and that she had sold me bean and cheese burritos. No big deal but my bet was that there wasn’t going to be any eggs involved.
I get home and what I got was two bean and cheese burritos with french fries stuck inside. Not exactly what I wanted. It didn’t taste too bad but it was just weird… Not sure I will be back.
And then I decided to try my arms at swimming. I suck and I am pretty damn sure I am going to be sore tomorrow, but it may get rid of the gut. We’ll see.
Ride more. Drive lots less.