The Goose, was cooked, kicked, rocked and pretty much ridden to within an inch of its life today…
But lets back up a bit to Thursday when the Santa who competes with the Brown Santa dropped off a lovely package for meself. I’d been promising lots of folks for lots of time that I would be getting one of these beauties for quite some time. So the time arrived and I got one. Thing is sick.
Thursday night the Mooseknuckler Possy headed up to Ice House to do some shredding. And by night I mean pitch black and 25 degrees when we jumped out of the truck. There was some question before we started to as if it was a good idea to ride at night in freezing balls weather down a really fast, rocky trail. Even with doubts we headed out. By the time we were done there were no doubts, it was a damn good idea.
The upper portion was fun, kind of pedally and I was trying to get used to the whole “suspension and gears” thing. But when we passed the sign for Broken Mesa my subconscious took over and the body and bike molded into one and things just went without me doing to much of that cerebral thing that we humans try to do every once in a while. And yes, the road cut is just as fun as it ever was. I’ve determined that the best part of that whole thing is that the trail ends with the road cut, which is just fun, sick and fast all rolled into one nice, Puff the Magic Dragon, joint.
Nuf of that.
While above mentioned outdoor, fast, sporting pursuit with lack of light was taking place a plan came to unfold before us that brought us to today’s shredding.
The plan was to camp at the Goose and then ride. Simple. Awesome and bodaciouslicious. The squish took it out of me but I have to admit it didn’t take more than two pedal strokes to remember how to ride the Goose on a squishy bike. I must also admit that when it was all done I had a big smile on my face. I might actually have fun on this bike. It was also nice to here Champ Mehr let out a “Holy Shit!” while following Sir Pratt. I threw in a couple of ups to make people think that I do in fact know how to ride, but the old man kind of has a patent on the Goose riding style…
Speaking of the Old Man, Sir Pratt turned 40 this Friday and we celebrated it nicely. My contributions to the suffering of the drinking inclined included one full case of Devastator, an almost full bottle of Tequila (there were fresh out of the totally full kind) and a couple of pizzas. Oh yea, and the whole thing went down at the Mooseknuckler Administrative Headquarters. Things were good. Julie didn’t come out but there was a lot of love by the end of the night. And I say that without the least shade of sarcasm (for once), because it was the start of the 4th decade of a man we all love, so loving was going on… Thanks to all those who helped celebrate it and gave to the overall community effort to do so.
With that sad, and in a less than poetic fashion I admit that having two completely unrelated bikes is gonna kick some serious ass and if anyone wants to ride anything, give me a shout. My 30th is coming up and I refuse to welcome it with this Budda belly, so let’s fucking ride.
Oh, and if you ever enjoyed punk rock, quit being a grown up and enjoy it again. It’s just as cool as it has ever been.
P. L. and R.
Pueden arrancar todas las flores pero no detendran la primavera. -Neruda, Pablo Neftali…
Live it! Love it!
Ok. I’m done.
Out.