are you looking for the mother lode?

There was this old man who spent so much of his life riding around in the moon light that he could see in the dark. He resides near the beach, in a town where I am going to live.



Speeding down the pave with no lights a week before the Full Wolf Moon? Why, yes, thanks. We are at 75% and waxing. What's not to love? Gates. Gates are not to be loved. 8 foot high galvanized linked and locked, is not to love.

For my part, I try to be cautious (as much as that applies to the inherent ridiculousness of hauling ass by moonlight) as I race around tearing ish up. I stick to trails I know (HA! until we get lost), stay out of the trees where it's dark (or worse- dappled moon light/dark shadows), keep things reined in some...but it is what it is. It is exciting!

When you realize you are coming up fast on a gate from nowhere (when did that go up?) it is exciting plus guest. I started hollering "Hey! HEY! Heyheyheyheyheyheyhey-" and we were there. As soon as I realized the gate, I began pitching the bike to the left and braking and skidding for all I was worth. Hey!Patchkitguy was right behind me, PROpeloton style. When I heard the resounding clang I was already off the bike and looking- there's Christopher St. John, upright and unscathed, with his right brake hood shoved up into the links and a slack look on his face.

I had to laugh.

It was terrifying. That could have been so bad. (Remember when Garvin hit the steel pipe gate on the other side and endoed over it? It was miraculous like that, only better.) Mr. St. John had masterfully, luckily, happily, thankfully performed his own flawless pitch to the left and cleverly used the fencing as a backstop. It even caused the half against which he was not lounging to conveniently fall over so we could waltz across and continue our ride.

After that, it was like butter.