It rained for a good part of the day. Not the kind of rain that might drown a sewer rat or anything, but a solid rain none-the-less. It's been so dry this year that the trails just sucked up the moisture like a sponge. There was no worry as to the conditions of the trail tonight my friend; it's gonna be supertack.
The Silent Killer, Coletrain, The Manimal and MaxiThad arrived as the clock struck eight. We casually geared-up and then headed off, after a few malty bev's, into the chilly night. I'd been feeling like a turd all day and could not focus; literally - everything was a blur. The crew started of as usual, a little on the quicker side of moderate. We hit-up all the good and fast stuff we could find. Mostly ripping good dirt single-track that would reach out and grab your tires no matter how fast you hit a corner. There was no slippage, no drifting no sliding. You could go as hard as
Chuck Norris Bruce Lee and never Tokyo Slide. Conditions were dreamy.
Back to me blubbering about how swollen my vagina had been, still was and continued to be. I was hurting. I could not get my a$$ moving fast enough to even keep Mr. Dick Cramp at bay. It was a sad first half of the ride for the Pirate, sad.
Then something happened. I think it was during my second or third crash, after a Powerbar and some water that my legs finally woke the phuk up and my vision returned. It was now officially game on.
We tore down some Pave' only to hump our way back up, the long way, on more pave' but at top speed. We crushed the pants off the Autobahn, with only the sound of an occasional freewheel mechanism interrupting rubber on leaves. Five guys on single speeds, silent and deadly like an owl hunting for prey, we flew through the forest and endured. (enter scratched record sound here) We were really just riding bikes folks, nothing glamorous like the b.s. I was just writing. Shit, next thing you know I'll be writing about phuking unicorns and fair maidens. Like that's gonna happen.
So off into some newer terrain we went, hitting some long climbs and descents - maybe a half dozen, that worked our quads like a minimum wage job. Fully spent, and knowing we still had to ascend the Lawrence Hill in in style, we retired to some gravel and a last stretch of fun and fast single track to get back to the lair.
Another successful Pirate ride on the books, another three days of my legs feeling like they just got raped by Godzilla. Good times as usual, good times.