Last Saturday was the annual, sometimes semi-annual Ride with ProZac Ride (that position for events title creator is still open). This Ride happens pretty much every time ProZac comes into town. I usually get a text saying that he will be in town for certain dates. I reply with the dates that I can ride and we set a time. On the odd occasion, we even get together for multiple rides in a weekend.
I’m sure I’ve introduced ProZac every time we get together and I write about the Ride with ProZac Ride, but for those who are new here and maybe don’t know who he is I’ll fill you in. The Alliance starting over a decade ago in the dingy backroom/wrench’s area of Red Rock Bicycle Co. At the time there were only a few employees. There was Sir Gurr, ProZac, Prattipus and myself. We were the Alliance in its earliest rendition.
Prattipus, Sir Gurr and I were more into big, squishy bikes that didn’t go uphill very well but we rode them that way. ProZac always had a hardtail and his ambitions, at the time, were to become a pro racer and live the dream of being paid to ride his bike. He spent a lot of time riding from point A to point B as quickly as possible. And he was fast. This is why he is called ProZac.
Here’s the hardtail.
We rode bikes and had fun. Somewhere I have photos of a soaking wet Zac next to a lake in the mountains above Escalante. And now we get together a few times a year to ride despite the fact that our lives have taken us in completely different directions and we see ourselves within the universe in different ways… we climb aboard our steeds and pedal and it feels like we are still in our 20s and still just pedaling because it’s the only thing that makes sense for us to be doing.
My cell rings. I’m with a customer so I send it to voicemail without looking to see who it is. Later I see that one Casey Anderson has called and left a message. I chuckle to myself knowing that regardless of why he is calling I’m going to enjoy listening to that message. I save it for later when I can fully appreciate whatever the hell it is that motivated him to call.
Casey worked with me at Sunrise for about two years. We did the first Slotoja together and he started the last with bronchitis leaving us after a long, hard night of no food and some serious rain storms. Instead of eating food, we drank the tequila that we had made sure to have with us at the last stop whilst failing to bring any kind of real sustenance. Sitting next to the road on wet grass, we made a fire and proceeded to solve all the worlds problems. There are few people in this world that I agree with on almost all points, Casey is one of those people.
I finally listen to the message. I can hear the wind blowing past as he details that he was riding his bike down Sardine Canyon and thought that he should call and say hi. Which is what he was doing, saying hi and the fact that he was on his bike barreling down one of the first places we ever camped on the side of a road together. He ends the call with something about getting together to ride somewhere that we have no business going and drinking something that would make us smarter than we really are.
The message ends and I smile.
KB and I are at dinner when my best friend from high school calls. Despite the fact that we both still live in SG, I haven’t seen him or talked to him in probably nine months. I have a feeling that it’s important so I send it to voicemail so I can give proper attention when we aren’t sitting next to a bunch of strangers. He doesn’t leave a message.
I’ve known Dustin long enough that I can remember riding my bike over Foremaster Ridge when the road didn’t go all the way through and the pavement ended at the bottom. For a couple of years, he lived about two blocks away. Then he moved and seeing that neither of us could drive, we were relegated to riding our bikes when no one would give us a lift. I remember the first time he showed up on my doorstep on his piece of shit bmx bike and I was blown away that he had ridden over the hill. Then it was my turn. It wasn’t a quick easy trip.
Once I’m home I ring him back. He tells me he is sleeping in the desert. I offer him the couch and he says that he feels like he needs to suffer in the heat. We have a long conversation about how too often our society focuses on being comfortable and forgets the importance of suffering. We both agree. I wish I wasn’t drinking because I would’ve driven up to sweat out an evening camped on the side of a road thinking about life and watching the stars fall around us like we did so many times as teenagers.
Living in Southern Utah doesn’t lend itself to meeting lots of people that share a similar lifestyle. That’s part of the reason for the Alliance to bring those people together, to get rowdy, ride some bikes and suffer. KB and I met Sean the day that a simple 5.10a took Shelbysticks© shoulder and then I proceeded to fall and catch my foot between the wall and the rope. It still hurts, thanks for asking. Sean was climbing next to us while all this was happening. He introduced himself and said that he and his wife were always looking for climbing partners. KB gave him her phone number.
Since then we have gotten together every so often and enjoyed each other’s company. This Sunday we held church together at which time Sean and Lauren told us they were moving. Our first thought was that we were losing some of the few people in Southern Utah that we enjoyed spending time with. And then we realized that they were moving to Bend, Oregon and this just meant that we would see them there instead.
The rain came down. It was August 3rd and we were cold. Luckily, the dirt was so dry that our tires never even got muddy. The rock got slick and we cut the pedaling short, but it was a much needed escape from the heat to a place that we usually don’t ride this time of year. There was whooping and hollering and genuine jubilation for being on two wheels. The ride ended too soon as they tend to do leaving us wanting for more time, more pedaling.
P. L. and R.
