All I really have to say is F#@! this weekend.
So, as you know Slotoja was supposed to happen this weekend. I showed up for work a bit before 9 on Friday with all my gear and BOB in the car. My bike was ready to go. I walk into the shop and Juddly says, Ryan fell down. Now my first thought was, “Wow that Bear’s game must of really sucked for him to get so drunk that he fell down the stairs at Wing Nutz.” Judd informed me that no, he had in deed crashed on his bike. Then the suspense and speculation started to grow. What had happened?
Come to find out, Mr. Gurr went for a bike ride and decided to fuck up his hand. I’m almost positive that he did this so Paul and I couldn’t go to Logan and torture ourselves by riding to Jackson wilst pulling BOB’s. The day proceeds with can we go, maybe we shouldn’t go, can we go and finally no we shouldn’t but we can do something else.
The something else is go to Cedar Mountain, run shuttles with the Champ, camp over night and then ride the Virgin River Rim.
Apparently, we wronged someone.
About half way down Blow Hard I flip up a rock that hits my bottom bracket something fierce. I knew it wasn’t good. So I stopped and checked it out. There was a good peice of carbon missing on the bottom bracket but I had to play it down, so I did the, “sure it looks bad but it won’t break” and went ahead and rode the damn thing the rest of the day under said premise.
We rocked Blow Hard and then set up a double shuttle for Dark Hollow. We rode down off of the peak and hit the dirt road. Shelby had two flats on Dark Hollow making for three total and then we tried to catch up to Spenser. We found him waiting where you leave the dirt road to return to singletrack. We waited for Paul and Karl. And then waiting entered that point of, “Hopefully they got a flat” territory. I turned the bike and head back up hill. I pushed and then found everyone else following me, which meant that I wasn’t the only one that was worried that something was seriously fucked.
We found Karl and Paul walking down the road. Then we found that Paul’s arm was not in good shape. We stopped, got out the first aid kit, did some pretend doctoring, tried to make some plans. Karl, being the genious that he is, determined that the best way out was by the dirt road we were on. He was right. So we left Paul in his care and the rest of us hauled some ass down hill to find the cars and meet them at the Town Hall, which we did.
Paul did not look like he was happy. Bryce got him in the car and said to meet him at Instacare in SG.
I followed the rest of the group back up to Brian Head peak to get Bryce’s keys.
Then I returned home.
Come to find out. Ryan is awaiting surgery. Paul is ok in the sense that he probably won’t need surgery but still may need counseling. My frame is broken and I’m not sure that I want to even consider riding tomorrow. And Henry Blake died just like he does every third season…
God help us all.
Happy September 11th. The day when a democratically elected government was overthrown in Chile with help of the CIA and the day that a couple of MORONS murdered thousands of people by flying planes into the symbols of Capitalism. And now the day that Paul almost died.
Fuckin’ A.
Out.