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I was a ponderin’…

I was a sittin’ ‘roun the house one afternoon lookin’ fer a place to go a ridin’ ‘er werk on trails when the phone started ta a ringin’. Well wouldn’t you know, it was Chipperamma. I’d already missed Jimbo’s call an’ I was lookin’ fer something ta do. Chip an’ I figured to go over to Pablos’ chute an’ cut down some of dem branch that’s always a wackin’ ya when float down that sweet E-ticket. Fer some of you pups out there that was a thing that was at Disneyland. The best bodacious rides at the ‘Land you had to buy a ticket book, an’ them ticket books had a buncho E-tickets. They were always the best rides, you know the kind that makes yer gut get the butterflies in it. Well anyway that’s the way I feel on the ‘Chute. The sad part is there used to be many things like the ‘chute in the south bay, mainly my stompin’ grounds that we’re ridin’ now.

You see years ago we usta ride a whole bunch of these. There was a series of hills over by Telegraph Canyon Rd. It was called the Roller Coaster. It was like this: you’d come flyin’ down from Rabbit Hill goin’ south, fast as you go, an’ dodge the big barrel cactus on the right then jump over the downed barbed wire fence hook a right an’ literally float down the first hill at ‘bout 40 ‘er so. Right Carroll? Seein’ he an’ Donny was always the fastest even back then. You didn’t even need ’ta pedal fer the next ‘un. You would just coast right up. Then get back on the gas an’ do the same thing fer three hills. The fun was overwhelmin’. ‘Nother place was triple step. That’s the same one we have now, ‘cept it was alot more rutted, but back then I remember hittin’ 30 one day. That ‘asn’t happened again. Ever. Hell, I reckon if some yahoo downhiller wants the record they can get one us over there to witness it. Looky here. If’n you don’t have witness it don’t count.

How ‘bout The Power Line Hill. Now that place would make ya pucker. At da top you slip ‘er in the big hole an’ hit ‘er hard. ‘jus ‘bout the white part of the hill you’d be at ‘bout 40. If you could still hang on an’ pedal you could get a scary 50 ‘er so. I recall doin’ it at night an’ missin’ the turn at the bottom with Carroll an’ endin’ up in a tree. Ah, the good ol’ days.

Then there was Carroll’s Corner an’ Chair Hill. Chair Hill useta have an’ ol’ recliner ‘jus at the top. Now Chair Hill holds a special place in my ridin’ history. See, you would haul ass down to Carroll’s Corner from the green water tank on H then turn left an’ float down chair. That’s right you could actually fly all the way down the hill. Then motor up the next side hell bent fer leather. If a body went fast ‘nuff down chair the you almost could coast up the side. One day I came aroun’ the corner leadin’ to Chair, haulin’ enough ass fer two people, when the front wheel washed out. That one cost a shit load of skin. It was one of ’em E-ticket rides I was a speakin ‘bout earlier. Whoowee that was some fun. On the other side of the water tank there was a fast downhill called Rattlesnake Trial. ‘Fore I ‘came informed ‘bout snakes an’ other such critters I was a fearful of them. Ignorance will do that to you. I was plum ignerant back then ‘bout ecology an’ such things that make the hill an’ hollers what they be today. I killed a six an’ half foot long rattler there. Now I know what yer all sayin now ‘bout the snake an’ such an’ I done learned the error’s of my way’s. Well any ways back ta my story, that hill you could hit an’ honest 30 ‘er so. Carroll’s bike store, the Chula Vista Cycle Sport, made mucho dinero at the bottom of the hill. See, ya had ta jump a cement ditch. See back in the ol’ days when most of the stuff we did was technical an’ we didn’t have bridges an’ such things, not that there’s wrong with that. I can ‘member VanGundy toastin’ a rim ‘er two on that there one like it was yesterday.

The most recent loss is the Brown-Boot, now that one is sorely missed. Man you could fly on that single track. Out to the Otay Lake Touch the Fence an’ be back ta my Casa in a hour an’ twelve if ya believe Carroll, as he had no witnesses. Night ‘er day that ‘un was some punkin’s. Construction has takin’ that ‘un also.

I know I ‘m a soundin’ like some ol’ timer lookin’ back. The times are a changin’. I reckon I am too, but because of the loss of the good ol’ trails we get New Mexico, Church, Vancouver, Death, Dead Car an’ lets not ferget Black Beauty. Then there’s Liars Revenge an’ Hardest Hill Aroun. See, change can be good as long as we don’t ferget what we’re out there fer. Adventure ‘an ridin’ is still why we go to these places. It could be ta commune with nature an’ enjoy the quite of the trail in the mornin’ ‘er it might be ta get a good romp in ‘fore the sun set.

Now you’ll here this an’ that, a lie ‘er two will be spoke of this subject, but that’s how I ‘member it.

Hoserr

Artichokes an’ mayo. Now that’s good eatin, eh? Boil up three ‘er four of them rascals get a big ol’ scoop of Kraft Real Mayonnaise an’ commence to chowin’ down. Chase it down with a frothy cold beverage. Now were talkin’. Go to the Charthouse Restaurant an’ buy one as an appetizer an’ you’re gonna be out a few bucks but they is good! Good! Good! I know you’re a thinkin’ I’ve been in the sun too much ta be a writing ‘bout artichokes ain’t you. Well there’s more to it than food folks.

Out on the trail, we bump into imitation artichokes occasionally. You don’t eat these kind folks, these are the ones that devil you somethin fierce fer beaucoup days after you come in contact with ‘em. I know’d you know which ones they is. You know on the Proctor Valley trail? Justas as you drop inta the “Too Short Trail” an’ you start picking up speed fer the table top? They’re the beautiful purple plants you have to weave through. Lord you wanna don’t tap one of them rascals. There is some serious pain waiting fer you from them purty flowers. They’s got them needles that are aboot one inch long. Now, them needles are sharper than a Yale collage graduate, I’m hear ta tell you. Shoot, I’ve had them rascals go right through my buckskins before too. The bad part is they break off in yer skin after they go deep like they do. When they go inta yer gloves you will have a hellava time just pullin’ yer glove off. But hold on now, it ain’t started ta get bad yet. Now say you get one of them needles stuck in you paw. Now I do admit it hurts awful. It burns an’ burns bad. It’s a burn that almost feels like it’s gonna paralyze you. These little needles must have hooky things on the side cause they sure don’t come out as easy as they go in. Sad state of affairs I’m here ta tell you. They almost always go in right the knuckle too, so you’ll be hurting ta hold yer bars. Now that they’s in, how in the blue blazes of hell do you get ‘em out you ask? It’s a bad day folks. A bad day. Best have yer tweezers handy cause that’s ‘bout the only way you can pull ‘em out. Some times you cain’t. It hurts worse than the IRS in April havin’ them thing buried deep in you, I ain’t telling you no baldface lie here folks. Say you get one ‘er two of them out, well yippy fer you. But say you don’t, all you can see is the little red spot where they went in, you can wait ‘til they get infected then they come right out. Care is the thing that must defiantly be shown here.

There’s another bunch of them purty flowers over on Liars Revenge. Aboot half way up ‘er down depending on your point of view. Last week a bunch of us tried to climb that big ol’ hill. I made it aboot 10 feet past the little cement step thing, not too bad fer an’ ol’ fart. A couple of riders that are new to our area made it farther than I did, as did Darby.

Well I came a flyin’ down that ol’ hill like a bowling ball on a freeway an’ missed ‘em all. I turned around to watch Darby an’ the rest come a haulin’ down that big ol’ hill only to see poor ol’ Darby whack one of them rascal hard enough to make sway in the breeze. Right behind him came the new guys. Bad luck on their part as they also wacker’d ‘em. As they came to a stop those rascals was a cussing like a sailor on liberty call. Darby was able to get his glove off, that’s when I saw the huge needle sticking out of his finger nail! I pulled it out fer him as he was a tad bit queasy. The other weren’t so lucky. Fingers an’ leg’s were covered in thorns, some came out some didn’t. Them young lads were able to take a memento home with ‘em.

   So if’n yer a ridin’ out Proctor Valley way an’ you see some beautiful purple flowers, well slow down an’ steer around ‘em cause if’n you bump inta ‘em, well it’ll be a bad day fer you too.

So there you go folks . Jus’ a little ditty aboot the purty flowers we have in the area here. We also got them little yellow flowers we call ankle bitters, but that’s another story.

Hoserr

Yeppers that was it was. They had us mountain bikers racin’ on a Motocross track! There were a couple of triples out there, an’ double ‘er two thrown in fer good measure.

The place we went to his time was hell an’ gone in TJ. Way off ta the east it was, like we were drivin’ through a dump, a real honest to goodness dump. There were dogs of all sizes everywhere rootin’ in this ‘er that, hell it looked like one of them “B” rated movies aboot the end of the world. That’s when Darby remember’d a turn we missed. Well, I missed since I was nagavator.

It all started like this:

Mick an’ I packed the Donk to go down to Mission to rony’viou with Murf an’ Darby. Poor ol’ Donk was stuffed like a shoppin’ cart of the homeless guy on his way to the recyclin’ center, Carroll had me takin’ down a bunch of T-shirt an’ medals for the kids race. Seems Shimano has a soft spot fer the little tykes in Mexico so they donated some stuff. Two boxes full! Well we all decided to make a road trip outta it so we packed it all in Murf’s Suburban, everybody stuff found a place an’ there was still room to sit in the third row. Darby an’ Janice, Mick in the middle, then me an’ Murf in the front. The hecklin’ started an’ didn’t stop until we had to pay $2.50 apiece to get in. Seein’ as it’s a water park they wanted to make sure we paid fer the services even if we didn’t use em. After a quick sign up it was back to the ‘Burb an’ get ready fer a prerun.

Up the hill from the start finish line, no big surprise there, eh? They always do that to us. Up we went like goats on a foragin’ mission. On top, so to speak there was nice breeze to take the edge off the 95° weather. On we rode makin’ mental notes here an’ there, that’s when we found the triples. As I rode up to it memory’s of the Too Much Fun race I did a few years back, hell, I auger’d into the ground like a tent peg in ta soft ground. Hurt me bad that did. I made sure this race wasn’t gonna be a repeat. The next sections were hard but not technical difficult, then towards the end of the track the trail turned softer than a baby butt. They had jus cut a trail a coupla nights before on the side of the hill, 8 or 10 inches of super soft sandy loam. The kind where your wheel jus’ buries itself, I made it with no dabs. But I figured once the race started it would be a terrible place to stop, I wasn’t too far from the truth either.

Back at the Burb we waited ‘til it was really hot, like 12:00 noon. Hell? Why break a tradition an’ start a race when it’s cool? Never happened in Mexico folks. We walked over to watch Janice take off, then it was time fer us.

There was Doc George, me an’ Murf, Leonardo, Orlando, an’ the new guy. I still cain’t remember his name. Hell, the season is gonna be over ‘fore I can remember these guys names. Up in front of us were the hot rods, Masters 30. Darby’s crew, now folks, them boys are fast. They lap me sometimes ‘an I ain’t that gawddamned slow either. Any way we was a sittin’ there waitin’ an’ they did the count down but started us a five instead of zero. Go figure, cause I ain’t got a clue. The horn blew an off we raced. I held my own ‘til the first corner than settled down into a mileage-coverin’ crawl! It was steep folks, steeper than a collage-gradin’ curve, I ain’t yarnin’ you on this one. On the top we headed fer the triple, as I came up to it there was Darby! He auger’d in so hard he flatted! I felt fer the ol’ boy but I couldn’t stop, seein’ that I was racin’ an’ all. Well kinda racin’. Okay I was racin’ in my own mind cause of them boys in my class ran off an’ left to my lonesome. I got to the difficult places an’ cleaned them all I did, yeppers. Wasn’t fast, but I didn’t crash.

On the second lap I could see Orlando only a corner away, I couldn’t catch him but I was makin’ up lost time. Cool, there’s a chance he’ll pop from the heat. That’s what I’m hopin’ fer. Second lap iqs good fer me as all the jitters from the start is gone an’ I can concentrate on racin’. Well jus’ ‘fore the soft stuff I was tellin’ you aboot I found the new guy. His head was his head was hangin’ down an’ he was a quiverin’. Sayin’ some aboot caliente ‘er somethin’. Too hot fer him, that’s gives me a 5^th place, hell maybe fourth if I can catch Orlando! Down we went to the finish line, an’ back up the hill. I had narrow’d down Orlando’s lead. I bet he was only 30 ‘er 40 seconds ahead of me now. There was a chance he succumb on one of the simple downhills. It very small chance I might add, as they weren’t hard ‘er anythin’. Well that’s how it finished too. I couldn’t close the gap an ended up gettin’ a 5^th. Murf won. Duh? Big surprise there! NOT. Darby came from last place to finish 3^rd. Mick got his very first 1^st place finish. Kudo’s fer him! Janice got a fourth in women’s intermediate.

We waited around fer a while as the dancers began the show. Yeppers. A Company called BB3, I think that’s what they called themselves, brought a bunch of men dancers to show off their skills. Good show, the heat was horrid an’ these guys danced continuously. Different son’s different steps, twirlin’, jumpin’, arms a slashin’ in an out, the crowd was joinin’ in with ‘em too, hell’ava party. But, Darby had to get to work so we snagged all the trophies an’ blazed outta there.

It the line back to America the conversations were vivid aboot racin’, Sedona, travelin’ an’ the people around us. Goods entertainment fer the border line folks. There you have it folks, another adventure in Mexico.

Hoserr

They meet at the Chula Vista golf course every Wednesday night to go to the Teki Hut or Steel Canyon Bridge. They invited me an’ John Carroll to attend this event, so I invited Mick an’ Carroll invited Rodger an’ Cindy to join in fun. We were down at Mission Cyclery getting ready checkin’ lights an’ stuff when it was decided to go. Off we went to the rony’viou place, the golf course.

When we pulled in the crowd was immense for a Wednesday night ride, must been 10 er 15 people of all ages an’ lighting systems. One fellow caught my attention, he had a huge spot light mounted on his bars powder’d by what it looked to be a motorcycle battery! It had to weigh a ton! Another inventive chap had glow sticks under his helmet to shine through, kinda neat.

Greetings were exchanged an’ the ride began. A brisk pace was chosen as we began to weave through the late night joggers an’ walkers like a drunk at Mardi Gras. No one was acting fool on this ride, all the people were season’d night riders with courtesy being show so the other exercisers on the trail.

Up the first hill to the green water tower. I couldn’t believe the pace these folks were putting out. Middle ring the whole way an’ not nary sign of slowing until we were sitting next to the GWT. Carroll was doing laps so we continued on to the Summit Park get to the Eastern trails. Once a’gin a brisk pace. I wasn’t sure why, but it was there none the less. As we went through the first switch back I looked to the right an’ saw a huge tarantula next to the trail. I pointed it out to the others as we continued to the Teki hut.

My headhunter was shinning brighter than fresh snow, as it was reflecting the white ground making it a tad difficult to see at time. Upon arriving at the Teki Hut high fives all around for an incident free ride. That was cool, these folks were having a bitchin’ time an’ their attitude was intoxicating. Soon the call was made to get back so off we went. Now the dust was thicker than make-up on a hooker, but there weren’t no hikers or horses to distract you from the chore at hand, night riding. In most cases you travel as fast as day riding but in others you go faster. I find I climb better at night then the day, go figure. We had just went by the dead Milk Ranch an’ began climb the only long big hill out there. I saw what appeared to be a scorpion. I turned my light on it to see, by gum it was. Everyone got a look see at it before it was scooped up in a water bottle to add to someone’s terrarium. As we came to the switchbacks I found another tarantula on the trail. This is sweet. I’m glad Jake isn’t out cause he scares me when he starts a rattling in the dark!

We all gathered at Summit to figure where to go. Some were going to the horse trail, us others were going to the Glider Port. After the split it was, Carroll, Mick, Jon Heffron, Rodger an’ Cindy, Roger Guzman an’ me. We’re haulin’ down Cardiac at a brisk pace, when I see Mick aiming for the horse gate at the bottom. Oh shit I’m thinkin, he ain’t gonna make it! The ol’ Indian trick werked! He went right under it. Shit, I’ll do the same thing. I made it. Next was Carroll. He choked at the last moment skidding off to the side. Hey hey. Mick got him on that one.

Well we proceeded on once a’gin at a brisk pace, Mick pulled out an’ went over the log at the golf course ahead of us. It ain’t his thing I reckon. We waited fer Rog an’ Cindy to show then we took off fer the bridge. You know the one by the horse ranch? It’s six 2 x 6’s nailed end and elevated above a foul smellin’ crick by rusty angle iron. Well me an’ Carroll are in the front shootin’ the shit, banterin’ back an’ forth, carryin’ on like a coupla idjits. When on my right, I hear a grunting ROARH! Like a huge hog or a big dog, hell it coulda been the chupracobra fer all I know, not that I’ve ever heard one before, right next to the trail. I got so scarit all i could do was look with my light an’ pedal. It was Mick! He ambushed us an’ scarit the shit outta me an’ Carroll. My butt puckered so hard I bet made a new crease on my seat folks.

Damned if my heart was a racing like two dogs in heat; meanwhile Carroll was tryin’ to slip in big ring so he could out run me. Mick was a laughin’ like a maniac at a looney bin by now an’ everybody behind us was rollin’ on the floor laughin’ from me an’ John’s misfortune. Damn!

When we came to the bridge me an’ Carroll went over with nary a problem. Then we heard a huge crash! Mick fell off the bridge! We got to hammer on him some but it weren’t nothin’ like he got on me an’ John. After the bridge the spider webs were every where. Seems we had to stop every few feet to remove em so we could ride through. After a small amount of web slingin’ we hooked up on the trail next to Sweetwater an’ motored on back to the parking lot to load up. A fun ride, an’ with things I ain’t ever seen in the wild.

So there you go folks, another adventure in the night.

Hoserr

There we were. Charlie, Marsha an me feeling the gentle sway of the Donk (that’s my 1974 Chevy k5 blazer) on 8 east by El Cajon, it seems to really move around the most in that particular area, as we were on the way to Los Coyote’s Indian a reservation to do a day of 4 wheeling. I had made the contact with some of the Colorado k5’s folks to tag along on one their adventures at the reservation. It’s up north of San Isabel at miler marker 35 on highway 79. 

We pulled into the campgrounds as I recognized some of the folks from the Blazer Bash at Truckhaven. There was Keith, Matt, Dan, Justin an’ some new faces that I would become familiar with before the day was over. As I shook hands with my friends I looked over to see they had a 23°articulation ramp. Hum? 

“Hey, do you mind if I ramp my truck?” I asked Dan as he was the closest one. Mike was helping folks with getting them up as well as tallying the totals as we waited around for the stragglers to show up. So I pulled the mostly orange thing around to see what it would ramp. Following Mike’s instruction I drove up scoring a 1005. It was the best so far among the k5’s. Then I backed up it. A 965.  Not too bad I guess. I pulled down an’ parked as we waited until the start time of 9:30. One of many new faces to me pulled in with his trailer’d k5. Chris an’ Chris with their ‘73. Man, that truck had more dents than a Tijuana Taxi cab, but he had a killer suspension system under it. He pulled his around an’ ramped a 1014 nose first an’ backed it up to 1223! He seemed he was gonna drive off the top of it he went so far. The start time got closer as a cloud of dust could be seen coming down road.

“It has to be Leland.” I heard one of the others say.

Sure enough, when the dust settled Leland hopped out. Now we could leave. Well that’s what I thought. As I sat in my truck, Rick an’ Melissa, Chris an’ Chris, Matt an’ Ashley, but Dan’s truck failed to fire or even turn over. Little did I know this was a sign of what lay before us today. Upon investigation it seems the positive battery wire fried itself on the header on the way there. 

“Okay I can fix that.” Dan boasts. True to his word he fixed it. But still no startie. “Hum?”  An ohm meter came out an’ it was determined he had no fire at the sparkplug. 

“Okay. I can fix that.” He claimed. Sure enough he hot wired a wire from the battery to the hot side of the HEI. As soon as he connected it turned over an’ idled like a new car. 

“So now we can go?” Marsha asked. 

“Yeah, lets go play.”  I answered.

Off into the high desert we drove, Keith leading with Mike, me an’ Chris following close. The first obstacle wasn’t really bad at all but it would be for Matt. Having a small tire/lift combo I drove the easy way around the rocks, but, Chris with his extreme rock buggy disguised as a k5 drove over the trash can sized boulders making it look effortless. Matt being of sound mind an’ heavy right foot tried to follow. Soon it became apparent Matt wasn’t gonna make it. When his rig finally stopped he was high centered on his rear diff an’ his transfer case skid plate. 

“Break out the winch!” Came a call from the spectators. 

“No, jus’ give me a quick tug.” He answered back. Dan was closest so he backed down an’ attempted to yank the stranded rig clear. No luck. Again an’ again it was tried with no avail.  Finally he succumbed to peer pressure an’ winched him self clear in a few moments. 

On we went, to the next real obstacle, El Hill.  We straggled in as I pondered this hill, I had tried it two years ago with no success so I figured to give it another shot today. Charlie, Chris an’ Chris were to spot me on this one as it’s got real high pucker factor. Marsha climbed up to the passenger seat as we started to climb. To the left looked to be the line but the Donk had refused it like a kid an’ cough syrup. Hum? I backed down an’ listened the guys spotting me. They were pointing to the right. I had tried the right a year ago with no success but things change so I tried it. Slowly the truck climbed, it slipped an’ the front right wheel went for the sky. Higher an’ higher it climbed until I just got scarit an’ stopped. Chris was pointing to the left so I backed up a tad, just a tad now, an’ slowly inched over. I guess when I was in the right place he waved me back to the right. Huh? Okay I turned an’ pushed the skinny pedal slowly watching the wheels grip through my cut out doors. Meanwhile Marsha hadn’t said a word. She just sat there quiet as a kid in the principles office. Not moving a muscle. Slowly we clawed our way up further.

 “Okay you got it. Hit it!” Came the call from the right. I did. We had made it! Wow! Quiet exhilarating!  Around the bushes an’ back down to the rest of the group. Only the 6ft vertical drop caught my attention as I lowered myself into it. Chris was handy for spotting again as he directed me safely back down to the small staging  spot. Whew! What a ride.

Craig an’ his perfectly built cj5 was to be next, a 360 V8, Dana 44’s with ARB lockers, revolvers  shackles an’ with a t-18/dana 20 t/c. He was truly set up for this stuff.

“Anybody wanna ride up?” He called out. 

“Hell yeah!”  I called out so I jumped in the passenger seat for a truly hair raising ride. Aboot half way up he slipped to the left an’ had the right front wheel in the air aboot 3 ft. This is a small rig folks, an’ when it’s in the air on the side of a hill, it’s enough to make you pull your seat belt a little tighter. With rolling over being very a real thing, he decided to winch himself up or at least until he could get a firm grip on the slick rock. 

Damn! That was close! I thought to myself as we returned on a different return route, one that wasn’t so steep. I seem to have turned to quickly an’ missed the easy way down! 

Next up was Chris in super flexy buggy disguised as k5.  He climbed the left as I had. No luck. Backing down he attempted the right. He went up as did his front wheels. That’s both of ‘em folks. We’re talking a wheel stand here, with only the bumper to keep his red rig from toppling over. Being a veteran of “’99 Warn Rock Crawling Championship” he brought the truck down smoothly making it look like child’s play. Not to one to quit he tried again, this time it stalled, before he could recover he started backing down. Quickly. Too quickly for Charlie that was sitting next to me. As Chris’s rig bounced towards the bottom, in what seemed like an out of control ride, Charlie ran for his life to the right. I sat there knowing he was gonna stop way before he even came close. Marsha was sitting on the left of me, she had brass balls of a sailor as she didn’t flinch a lick. As Chris stopped his Mr. Toad’s ride, his front drive shaft spline’s became separated as he ground to a halt. Aboot that time the rest of the caravan caught up with us as Chris finished fixing his rig for another attempt.  He drove up the right again coming very close to flippin’ his truck again. Finally he backed down an’ shut his truck off.

“Not today.” He called over to us. Aboot that time Rick an’ Melissa pulled up in their 74 GMC. He was looking around to see if anyone was gonna give it a go, when no one stepped forward to volunteer, he went next.  I watched him go to the right as I had done, then to the left, then a quick turn to the right an’ he was gone. No theatricals or nothin’. He made it look so easy. Well at least I was one of the guys to make it. 

     On we went. Weaving through the Tooth Pick Canyon an on to what I thought was the top of Bobsled. I was sorely wrong. At some time we had lost Keith, Mike an’ Leland. We waited for a while but they never did show, a radio call came through. They in the right area but it seems we made an error an’ was running everything backwards. A small series of climbs with rock formations came into view as well as another expedition of Jeeps an’ Land Rovers!  As the more prepared rigs made it up an’ around the rock pile we looked on as the next rig staged at the bottom. It was Larry an’ his nice dog turn to negotiate it, in an exgovernment rig he did well as he climbed right up. Next was Kirby, it became apparent that his was more than Kirby an’ his family had bargained for.  With a stalling engine, a clutch that wasn’t happy and a front drive shaft that was hating life he attempted the trap. He didn’t make it. Craig to the rescue with his 9k winch saving the day. By now it was looking like a k5 convention on top of the small knoll of rocks an’ no decision had been made to go on or turn back. Then the decision was made for Kirby. His front drive shaft broke so had to turn around. Larry said he was finished also so he would lend a hand to Kirby an’ his family. Chris donated an extra front drive shaft, an’ Charlie went back to give them the easiest directions out. 

We were down to 6 rigs now, so on we went as the sun began it slow drop into the distant ocean. By now my k5 was making some strange grinding noises when I turned left, but I didn’t worry about it too much as it kept running. The next obstacle was what they call Bigspy’s rock, it’s the size of a huge house an’ you have to drive under it. Very cool. Then came the Bobsled. I should describe this, it’s chute. Most likly aboot 6 or 7 feet wide. Mirrors get folded in on this one.  Twisty to the right then left with trash can size rocks an’ ruts. Oh yeah, there’s water seeping out of the ground half way down so add mud into the picture. Now just before the top there’s a 4 ft vertical ledge with a pocket 4ft before it. The pocket’s big enough for you right rear wheel to fit in it perfectly. Then as you think it’s done at the crest is another bunch of moguls. After you make that you have to turn left up another vertical wall, off camber to the right then go up a series of moguls to what looks like the top. It isn’t. It continues on into oblivion. This trail was to be the nails in the coffin for our 6 interpret adventurers.  Chris in super flexy buggy disguised as k5 gave it the first, second, third an’ fourth tries. No makie. Then I’ tried twice. No makie. Matt tried an’ tried then he winched himself up. Dan tried an’ got the winch so he continued to the next section. Just as he was almost up the second obstacle, his right front downhill side tire went flatter than a pane of glass. Now he’s on the verge of rolling on top of Matt’s truck. Out came the come-along’s, high lift jack an’ the co2. After what seems like forever he’s was finally fixed. Meanwhile, while he was getting fixed Craig drove his perfectly set up Jeep up the ‘sled. At the wall it died an’ wouldn’t restart. His winch slowly gave out an’ then it was apparent he was going no where fast. He released himself to back down with no power but he was wedged in tighter than thong on a Pamela Andersen’s rump, to make things worse his wheels going the wrong way. I got my K5 an’ strapped him down. Dan drove down an’ finally Matt succumbed to peer pressure an’ also drove down. Sounds like it over eh? Well not yet. The light was completely gone now,  so head lamps cast eerie shadows on Bigspy’s rock. The twisty boulder cover’d trail was a handful in the daylight an’ at night it was difficult to say the least.

I watched Rick an’ Melissa drive up on the ledge under the rock, their back right wheel going at least 4 ft in the air as the tried to slither under the boulder. After a few attempts they backed up, moving a little to the right they made it though with no damage. My k5 is so low I just drove right under it with no anxiety as did Craig in his perfectly set up Jeep. Dan on his 36 swampers had a good go of it but then it was Matt, well, his steering was fubr’d by now with all kinds of spring to axle problems. He got half way through it his wheels would only turn right. Unfortunately it has to go left under the rock, Matt a clever rascal, he tied his winch on to the right knuckle an’ winched his wheels straight while he drove forward. Very ingenious. On we traveled. I ripped a tail light off from misjudging a corner, an’ then Craig’s power steering belt flew off.  He scurried aboot fixing it quickly as the night waned on. He drove another 20 or 30 minutes an’ it flew off again this time being eaten by the fan. Dan produced more belts, Craig’s perfect set up Jeep continued on. Soon he was calling out another stop. This time his alternator belt went bye bye. More belts materialized as Craig once again fixed his perfectly set Jeep to continue on. 

Rick an’ Melissa were leading now, they had a vague map we were to use to find the camp. Hours rolled by as we had to travel all the obstacles we came in on. The stars were out an’ the temperature had dropped as we continued on. At 11 in the night, 13 hours after we left we pulled into camp. Whew!

We shook hands an’ headed back for 2 hour drive. I was exhausted so Charlie offered to drive. The whole time Marsha was a trooper, never a complaint or bitch dribbled out of her word hole. We stopped in an night Mexican food place. We musta made the shift people a mite nervous as we cover dust and dirt from days play time. The was lousy.

“It’ll make turd.” as Charlie casually said.

We’re were once again on the road home. At 1:30 we pulled in the drive way. 

Hellava trip eh? Hoserr 

Well Sunday is here an the shop ride was a truly interestin’ time.  Well, ‘team trainin’ ride took off at 7:00 to do Sweetwater an I stayed^[1]back to help on the shop ride.  No biggy.  Just a ride like all the other rides.  That’s what it seemed like.  Well the girls took as usual ‘bout 10 minutes early while the guy’s all stayed at the shop gettin’ the new people ready to go.  There were people who showed up to ride with no helmet. This was a first fer me.  Now I was in a tight spot here race fans.  I figured if I tolt ‘em they couldn’t play with us they would go out an possibly get hurt.  So I had them go with us, against my better judgment.  When we got to the Junior High there was still a guy walkin’ up the hill.  Now that ain’t so bad cause I have done the same thing.  Well I went back down to where he was walkin’ an noticed he was in middle chain ring an ‘bout 3 in the cassette.  No problem, that’s what I’m here fer.  So Papa Lou an’ I showed him the gear he could ride up in.  Bingo up he went.  

It’s the stuff like that we tend ta ferget ‘bout.  Remember back when you were first startin’ out ridin’?  All them hill’s ya had to walk up cause there was no one there to show the right gear ta be in.  Or the best place to climb up er even how to get started on the side of a hill.  It’s was flash back time fer the ol’ hoser this day.  After we got to the top one of the new guys told his tire had a big bump on it an would I take a look at it. Sure. Holy smokes!  His tube was hangin’ out the side of the tire, almost rubbin’ the brake shoe.  

“Whoa here partner” I says. I did the air out an reinflate it back to normal, thing but this time I kept the tube inside the tire. Too close.  That got me thinkin’.  I looked around at the guy’s I was with.  Seats were almost all too low and no oil on the chain. 

 I asked the guy’s “who does the work on the bike’s?”  “No one we just ride them.”  Oh boy.  I could see that this is gonna be interestin’. We all made it to Snake an’ they all took off like gang buster’s. Yehaww.  I came ‘round a corner a one of the guy’s was pickin’ himself up off the ground tryin’ ta gather up his chickens.  Seems he missed a corner on the trail an’ wacked a bush.  His Grip shifter was toast. So I patched it up fer him an sent him on his way.  As we went down Snake I noticed all the shoppin’ cart’s that are begin’ to litter the trail.  I don’t know who’s doin’ it but last week there were shoppin’ carts only the trail.  There were also branch’s an sticks ‘bout neck high all over the Snake trail.  So be aware that some one out there is sabotagin’ the trail at random.  At the Home Depot I asked him an his partner ta go on back ta the shop cause his ride was over.  We went down to the race track an’ had some fun on it.  Well almost.  Another new guy had his saddle fall off on the way down the second part of race track. Whelp, his ride was over.  He says he could keep goin’ but I tolt him if he fergot that his saddle fell off he would be singin’ soprano.  At the elementary school 2 more decided that the single tracks were too narrow an’ headed back to Mission.  It was sad to see the guy’s quit like that cause we had Proctor comin’ up yet an it is always a hoot.

  Proctor was a hoot.  We did the dog run part of Proctor, up by the fence, it was like a roller coaster up there.  Hell, I bet a dollar to a plug nickel that you could hit 40 er so on one part of it.  We got to the horse gate an’ no Papa Lou.  We waited fer a short time an’ I decided ta go a lookin’ fer him.  Just as I started down the trail he was a comin’ up.  He say’s that the bottom trail is in powerful bad shape. So bad that ya can’t even see the ruts an rocks an thing. He found the rocks an’ ruts though. A coupla times actually.  The rest of ride was as normal, single track ‘round the green water tower an down JohnnyWalker hill to the golf course an’ back ta Mission.

  I feel fer the new guy’s whom wanted to ride but were not ready fer the trails that we go on.  We take it fer granted that everybody rides like us on similar bikes an’ equipment. It’s good to back pedal a few years to remember what it was like.  The real essence of mountain bikin’ isn’t a tricked boinger ‘er a light weight hard tail, it’s just ridin’ on what ever you have.  Attemptin’ everything that comes yer way tryin’ to do yer best to finish the day with out breakin’ er gettin’ too hurt.

 That’s how it all started folks an how I ‘member it.  Hoserr

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Up ahead we saw another truck with bikes it, so we latched on ta their bumper. See I didn’t wanta get lost like the last time. So I figured that we have a good chance of gettin’ there if’n we followed someone. Score! They lead us right inta the track. 

This race we went to all the way down ta Roserito Mexico. Mick, Darby an’ me all hopped inta Mick’s big Dodge an’ let the adventure began. Down the tollway we went with dreams of trophies dancin’ in the air. On the way down we saw the remnants of a car, I think it was a car. It had t-boned the center cement median wall. Cripes! There wasn’t much left of it. On we drove. The mornin’ sun was jus’ startin’ ta break over the eastern hillside. Darby pointed out all the surfin’ spots as we continued. A few fishin’ boats were makin’ they’re way down the coast in hopes of baggin’ some grub. Carroll would be havin’ a hard time drivin’ knowin’ that there was fish at be caught and waves to surf.

This is a familiar course, a few things had changed but fer the most part I raced over almost all of it at one time ‘er ‘nother. After signin’ up, we got the bikes down to preride. Doc George gave us some directions on where the changes were then we were off. They had hills named, Juana, Cha Cha, an’ a couple more that I cain’t pronounce bein’ Gringanesse an’ all. Fer the most part it was like the last time. They added a ditch here an’ there changed directions occasionally. Yes a difficult, but fun track. It was the Coyotes Cycling Club turn ta abuse us. When we got to the hill, ditch, gully, whatever ya wanna call it I went down first. Sketchy but entertaining. Darby went down okay, no mishaps. Then came Mick. Oh. Oh. Splat! The ol’ boy augured in like a tent peg inta soft ground. He laid there on the ground while me an’ Darby was wonderin’ how the hell we was gonna get 205 lbs. of white meat back ta the truck? Thankfully, he jus’ rang his bell. After a quick look at the X-Caliber it determined that he’d be able ta continue. 

Gully after gully, switchbacks after switchbacks we rode. But check this out. Some of the race course was laid out in bones. That’s right. Bones. Some of ‘em was stuck inta the ground. Some was layin’, some was pointin’’ out the course. Pretty darn ingenious! On top of one of other ridges was sign. This one said Cha Cha. Cool. A real fast hill. Right in ta a gully then back up the other side. Two ledges you could jump if’n ya had nuff speed. Too cool!  Then a bitchin’ single trail right along the side of a deep gully! Ya ain’t gonna find a course like this in America! These boys put on a great show! Some more climbin’ then downhill time. I bet you could hit 35 er 40 easily. Then the climb started. Lower back hurtin’ climbin’. The heat wasn’t too bad yet. I figure the final canyon was ta be scorcher come bout 1 or 2 in the afternoon. It was still early. Our start time was slated fer 11:55. It should be hot ‘nuff by then. They couldn’t have us go out in a civilized time. That jus’ wouldn’t be a correct race if’n they did that! Mick decided to play in Darby’s class today since he’s been doin’ the long rides with us on the weeks days an’ all. 

They started us at 11:57. There was Doc, Pedro, Leonardo, David, Pablo, me, a new guy, an’ Braden from Sweetwater fame. Good racin’! The flag dropped an’ they all left me. Not too much different here. I caught Pablo on the first downhill makin’ the pass jus before the powder hillside came to greet us. It wanted me to stay there with it an there were plenty of chances to get off ta do that too. I made it down with no drama an’ got to drag race a AA racer to the top of the next hill. He won. On it went like that. Race from corner to corner. Got ta the place where Mick had a face planted. Loved it! I could see Braden by this time but couldn’t catch em. They’d be a goin’ down as I was climbin’. Damn! Onta the Cha Cha! Yeah! I almost did it with dabs too. Braden was outta sight by now, but the 6^th place guy was right there. What a sight it musta been. Drag racin’ at 2-3 mph up hill. It had ta look pretty funny. I made the pass at the sign up tent. Damnit, he stayed right on my butt! Damn! Okay, I’ll try 3 ring on ‘em. I pulled an’ grunted ‘til my legs were on fire, but he was still there! I’ll get ‘em on the downhill I was a figurin’. Nope. Not yet. Up the hill we raced. Middle ring an’ muscle burnin’ what I was feelin’. He was glued ta me like white on rice! One last chance I was figurin’. Juana. I’ve seen ‘nuff folks stuff it there, so I figured I give it a shot. I almost didn’t touch the ground on the way down. I was way too fast here folks. Plain dumb move on my part. I coulda augured in like Mick had done earlier. I pulled it off. After the short hike a bike I jumped on at a run, then I slipped the in ta Big Ring an’ did my best impression of good ol’ Lance. When I turned to climb the next hill the guy was no where to be seen. No matter. I ain’t takin’ no chance. Maybe I can catch Braden, so I muscled up it in middle. My poor ol’ walkin’ sticks were quiverin’ like a drunk in front of the judge by the time I got ta the top. I stole a look back. Still clear. Cool. Big Ring a’gin. Standin’ up I hammered ‘til my ticker was jus’ ‘bout ta quit. Cha Cha lay in front of me. I was pantin’ like a we was in a Lamaze class. All of my control was gone. Don’t even touch them brakes boy. Who said that! It was my braver side. What the hell? So I didn’t. The g’ force at the bottom jus’ ‘bout ripped my hands off them Monkey bars, folks. Damnit all! I could barley steer it the other side! Holy smokes! I made it to the second ledge! One small dab. I gotta do this more often! On to single track. I caught my breath as I saw Braden. The problem was he was goin’ down as I was goin’ up. There was no way I could catch him. So I raced who ever close to me. Advanzado B or C. Man ‘er woman, it didn’t matter one iota as long as they were faster than me. I clear the powder hill with no sweat, Juana came an’ went like a wet dream in the night. Cha Cha lay up there waitin’ fer me. Damnit! I show her what it was all ‘bout! I climbed once a’gin in big ring droppin’ another Advanzado B. Then she was there. Waitin’ to eat me up. I stayed in 44 this time, pedalin’ down as fast as I could. Don’t even think ‘bout usin’ them brakes pal! there was that voice a’gin!  Up inta air I went. Landin’ on top of the second ledge! I wish I coulda done that the first two laps! The rest was still difficult as I climbed to the finish. There’s another racer right ahead of me. I pulled up ta him an’ sucked his wheel fer a few strokes, then pullin’ up next ta him I challenged him ta some fun. He wasn’t up fer it. I finished the up the race gettin’ my sixth. I had a good race. I don’t think I could much better. Its them damned uphill starts that do me in! There was Mick shakin’ my hand! “What are you doin’ here?” I asked?

“Cha Cha got me.” then he pulled his glasses off. Ewww! His right eye was cut an’ it already startin’ ta turn inta a real shiner. Darby got a second! Yeah baby! There ya folks. Coyotes brought out a terrific race track. Everyone was commentin’ on lower back pain from the gruntin’ hill climbs. It was a good race fer me. Sixth is fine fer me.

No crashes either! Yahoo! 

‘Til next time, Hoserr

Brakes? Don’t need no stinkin’ brakes. There was a time when all we had was the coaster brake. Remember the days of seein’ who could lay the longest skid mark. Ah, those were the days of simple bikes. No Grip shift. No XTR. All the fancy European bikes had 10 speeds an’’ skinny tires an’ were always gettin’ flats. Them were the days.

‘Member goin’ over ta McCulics’ hill an’ lookin’ down the vert you were attemptin’ to hurl yerself down. Yer friends starin’ at it thinkin’ if they would be next ‘er get called the heinous names like scaredy cat ‘er chicken. That was the worse thing back then. Ta get labeled as a chicken was worse than gettin’ smooched by yer Grandma in public.

So here you are sitting on yer trusty Huffy 20 inch’r lookin’ down. You really can’t see the bottom too well but you know ‘bout half way down there’s a jump you made from last years sleddin’. That jump caused Jamie Summers ta get his bell rung really bad. Yer lookin’ down thinkin’ ‘bout the back brake that yer gonna be tryin’ ta use on the way down. Wounderin’ if it’s gonna go out like it did over on Randolph Street last year. Yer palms are sweatin’ inside of yer dads work gloves an’ yer gettin’ the knot in yer gut.

Three of yer runnin’ bud’s are sittin’ there with you. They don’t say much. They look down the hill an’ then at you then down the hill a’gin. Well it’s show time. You roll up ta the edge an’ creep the front wheel onto the lip an’ stick yer Converses on the flat pedals. Now! You hit it! The speed builds quickly. ‘Fore you know it the line you was tryin’ ta follow is a blur an’ yer makin’ mistakes right an’ left. Oh no! Here comes the jump an’ yer on the wrong side of it! Try ta make it. Gettin’ outta shape an’ you hit the brake. Big mistake. The back end starts comin’ ‘roun’ an’ yer really scared ‘bout now. You got yer butt planted on the banana seat an’ you feel the bike goin’ side ways. Up the jump, Jamie Summers’ injury comes ta mind an’ everything is in slow motion, jus’ like that western “The Wild Bunch”.

You see the ground comin’ up ta meet you. Before you can put yer hand’s down ta protect yer face it becomes a becomes a plow. Everything’s a blur. Over an’ over you roll, arms an’ legs floppin’ this way an’ that as you can feel grass an’ dirt bein’ shoved up yer nose as you tumble on down the rest of the hill. Then everything is quite. You wanna start bawlin’ right off, but it comes ta mind that you might be called a sissy. Slowly you open yer eyes as yer breath comes back ta you, yeppers breathin’s a good thing ‘bout now.

You roll over onto yer back an’ you can feel the bike is wrapped up in yer legs. Kick it off. Nope. That’s not gonna work. Slowly the world comes inta view. You sit up an’ see that yer Levi’s are caught in the chain. You look up the hill an’ you see yer fiends up there whoopin’ an’ hollerin’ like a bunch Indian’s. You reach inta yer pocket an’ pull out yer barrow knife an’ cut yer jeans so you can stand up. Man, mom’s not gonna like my pants bein’ cut. Oh well.

You stand up an’ survey the ol’ body ta see what don’t work an’ what does. Not bad. A coupla big knots on the ol’ fore head an’ a decent cut on yer fore arm. Cool. That’s it. You look at the bike. It’s not bent too badly. Looks like the high risers are bent pretty bad. You put one foot on the handle bar an’ pull hard till it gets good ‘nuff so you can steer again. Then comes the test. Will those brakes work? Yeah! They still work!

Yer frien’s’ come down the back way cause yer crash is still too vivid in their minds ta even try the hill. Single speed an’ coaster brakes. You could trash yerself an’ the ol’ bike would still get you home. Then it’s off to get some soda an’ start the yarnin’ ‘bout this an’ that.

That’s the way it useta be. Hoserr

Well Fans it is with a sad heart that I’m a writin’ this out. In the month of August two of our racin’ friends down in Mexico passed away. Efren from the LaPressa team an’ Keke from the Rancho Veijo team. It was one of the hottest day we have had in quite some time. Efren was pre runnin’ the track at Rancho Veijo when he got separated from his friend’s an’ got lost. The heat exhaustion was determined to be the cause of his passin’ away. The same thing happenin’ in Tecate for Keke, ‘cept he was racin an’ got heat exhaustion. He passed away before emergency help could stabilize him. I knew both of these fine people it is with sadness that I’m a writin’ these lines.

I am writin’ ta tell all the folks that if’n’ you go a ridin’ out in the hottest time of the day to get acclimated to the weather take a Camel-Back an’ extra water. Did I mention that you should take extra water. Take extra water.

We aren’t like the pro’s we see on the tube that only have one little bottle. We don’t see the rest of the picture, there is huge contingency’s of support that we never see.

But seriously folks, regular people need to be self sufficient. In the hot weather put up with extra weight of a coulpa bottle ‘er so. It’ll make the difference. Better to have an’ not need than to need an’ not have.

Once again my condolences to the family of these fine young men who passed away. Hoserr