I’ve said it before and I’m gonna say it again, trails are like puzzles and figuring them out is the reason I ride. And then once I figure them out, I find another bike to use so the challenge starts all over again.
It was with these thoughts, that about a year ago, we all started to get excited that a new puzzle was being laid in our backyard. And to up the ante, they were calling it Suicidal Tendencies. The first time we looked over the ledge off of Sidewinder, there was some scratching of the head. There was a good 15 foot drop to the next level section of the mesa and to get to where that was would take some Danny Macaskill skills. I rode my singlespeed up the ledge and then scratched my head and then stopped. We could see the ACE working on the other side of the ridge and we thought it best to not bother them.
Then we returned and returned until we finally rode the trail. It wasn’t what any of us expected. It was hard. It seemed unrideable and there was a fucking tombstone on the trail. I mean come on…
When the trail crew finished, we were all a little blown away by the amount of work they had put in. The rock wall that was built to navigate that impossible section in, was in and of itself, amazing. And we rode. Those parts that seemed impossible were slowly stitched together. Things that were designated as unrideable were ridden. It soon seemed that none of us were going to be Suicidal Failures.
During the past few months, for some reason I lost my way. I thought it would be nice to have a bike with some gears. An opportunity arose and I ended up with a geared hardtail. And then I ended up with something that I signed a contract that I wouldn’t talk about on my blog and was required to ride that something, regularly. I placed that something on the geared bike and rode the shit out of it.
Many of you asked, where’s the singlespeed? I had no good answer. Maybe I needed to stray so that I could find my way back. Prodigal Son story, anyone?
Anyway, during the Sinning Time, I figured out how to climb the drop. The first time hurt and then it was just there and I could do it. If I remember right it was Super D who was the first to ask what bike I was on. I hung my head in shame, it was the geared one…
During this time, this video was released.
Dammit that kids got skills.
This video inspired me to profess that my next bike would be of the trials version. I mean what better way to put puzzles together than by having a bike specifically designated for that purpose. As an added bonus, I happen to love hopping around on my bike. I probably would have purchased a trials bike if QBP carried one, or any one else for that matter. I tend to purchase things based on ease. If I have to go to a store, it’s probably out.
Yesterday morning I was just hanging at the shop, minding my own business when none other than Handsome Dave shows up. He waves me over to his car, as if he was going to offer a kid some candy, and opens up the back. There, within the confines of his four-wheeled coffin lay a trials bike. He “says” to me, he “says” I’m sick of moving this thing around, do you want it? No, Dave, I have no need for a… Of course, why did you even ask. I’ll take it.
I don’t think I have been more excited about a bike in a long time. The first mountain biking video I ever saw was Hans Rey’s video of him in Jamaica. It was called “Good Vibrations” or something like that.
That may or may not explain why I hop around on shit.
So I got a trials bike yesterday and I already wrecked and muffed up my leg.
But with all that in mind, Prattipus and myself headed out to ride Suicidal Tendencies this morning. I repented of my sins last week and put the singlespeed all back together and have been enjoying the shit out of it ever since.
The trail was in good condition. The recent rain left most of it pretty hard packed. The only thing that I could think about was that climb. That 30 yards of trail that I had ridden but hadn’t conquered. I dabbed plenty of times. My cleats didn’t want to stay in their home, but all I could think about was that section of trail. I knew it was going to hurt, but I wanted it.
I screamed. I called the trail a little bitch. I hopped, more than once. And I pedaled my ass to the top of that climb on my singlespeed. It hurt and I let the world know that it was taking my soul if I didn’t make that climb, that 30 yards of puzzle that I hadn’t figured out yet.
I didn’t even have the energy to get off my bike when I was done. I just leaned into the rock and let my handlebars hold me up, but I did it. And I feel pretty special about it…
P. L. and R.
Editor’s Note: Yes, I realize that this is a little over the top self indulgent, narcissistic and probably stupid. But my mom thinks I’m a great person and a good writer, so I have that going for me. Thanks mom!