The Wednesday Night Ride went down, and so did I. I broke way too many of my own rules and got bitch-slapped across the choppers for it. First thing, I bought some new rubber, not the usual bombproof sidewall version but a step down in weight. How could my pals possibly lead me wrong? I went against my gut instinct and went for it. WRONG PHUKING ANSWER!
Literally 10 minutes into the ride, the first ride on this new set of tires - I cut a sidewall. There's rule #1 broken: stick with what you know works. I didn't.
No big deal though, right? I carry everything I need to fix my bike and keep rolling, always. Well, I screwed myself in that department too. I had removed my seat bag containing my spare tube earlier in the day. I'd brought it with me to the trail but left it in my truck. I'm a retard. I had to be saved by a pal, borrow a tube, even a dollar bill to keep the tube from bulging out of the tear. I really ate my own words and felt like a total douchehtard.
Later I paid for my mistakes. I crashed so hard that I'm still sore and have multiple contusions and bruises to show for my OTB shit circus. Fortunately only Cliff was anywhere near me when I tumbled at least three rotations down the rock-strewn hill.
Thank god their was beer and a warm fire post-ride to caress my stupidity.
Thanks to the Trail Hermits for putting on a good show and leading us through the thick of it. No matter how much of a crap ride I had, it was still flippin' fun to be out in the woods, riding in the dark on some sick trail with good friends. Always a good time, no matter how much I'm bitching about it...