...So if everyone is done coddling George for being a menace to society...
...So there we were, faced with the prospect of not only a U-turn which is sin enough in these circles, but on a loose rock two track after which we'll be repeating the same goat path that caused Steve so much grief and bike damage going in. My mantra was "our bikes aren't in the river"
Add to that it's late in the day and I'm really tired from the long day of dirt riding so far. I'm not happy, I'm pissed. Never ride pissed.
Don't get me wrong, I started out on dirt bikes and love it. Just not after a 35 year break and not on the Graceful Hippo, and not weak from fatique.
And certainly not pissed.
One difference I asked for going out was that I not be in the lead. George wanted the back so Steve had the lead. He did fine as far as I could tell but I couldn't keep my gaze up high enough to focus where I wanted the bike to be up the road. I kept looking at the piles of loose rocks that were slipping and sliding the bike from one side of the two track over the berm to the other. I kept the throttle up but my grip tightened and I was over compensating.
Swished through one, then two, maybe three spots where I was certain I was going down.
How am I still up, I thought?
Then I wasn't up any more. Low sided on the left side. Pic in Picasa somewhere.
Not to bad, but I just don't want to ride anymore and feel wrong about getting back on.
Three guys make short work of setting me up again and we are off to try again.
No more that a hundred yards down the road, I am again focusing exactly where I don't want to be and I am tight on the grips, throttle on.
Pow, high side. George and Steve eventually showed up and a single minded effort was made to get my hippo on her feet again. This time she was half into the bushes.
I'm shaken beyond riding and words don't even need to be said.
George saw that I was done for the day but where the hell can we pitch a tent here. No place I can see. Nobody even thought to get this pic due to the nature of the get off.
Faced with a hill climb of loose rocks and debris, George just hopped on like a kid and throttled her up to speed and took her right up the middle of the berm as best as berms would allow. I may have been fatiqued and hence delerious, certainly shaking, but I thought I saw a bow wave of rocks and gravel pouring from my front tire. Maybe even a rooster tail following a groove cut into the berm. A sight to lift a fallen riders heart.
...
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