……..Or “why I ride”.
[My previous post ended up kind of lengthy so this is kind of part 2.]
I learned to ride my first bike in the late 70’s. I still remember it. It was bright orange with a red seat that had a tribal looking Phoenix on it. Single speed with the brakes on the “back pedal”. More than just something to do, this was freedom baby. I grew up in a time and place where there wasn’t concern about child abduction and all of the craziness you hear these days. (Perhaps it has always been there and not as publicized?). We didn’t have the plethora of electronic gadgets and mind numbing babysitters kids have now. We played outside. And in my neighborhood … we roamed free on bicycles. We often moved in packs on the streets. We were like young gods on these marvelous machines, moving like the wind and every curb, bump, log and nig rock was an opportunity to defy gravity. Helmets? Bah…those were what the “special kids” wore. You always felt bad for the poor kid whose parents affixed the big bright orange flag that stuck up behind the seat and the goofy horn on the handlebars. It didn’t take much heckling before the kid found away to break them off. “OOPS”. A couple blocks away in an open field there was a landfill where contractors left various mounds of dirt and chunks of cement from building. Over time we constructed our own “BMX park” out of a series of rather large mounds of dirt with various trails. We called it “The Dirt Hills” and everyone in our neighborhood knew the reference. I can’t tell you how many cuts, bumps and bruises we accrued from that but they were badges of honor. And nobody died or ever had a serious injury other than a stitch or 2. We lived for these adventures.
Years later – I want to say 1988 – I met a new friend who was the Asst Manager of a local pizza place where we worked. I actually first met him in Sun Valley where my buddy Jordan & I were, staying at my family’s Cabin. John was there for a big NORBA Mountain Bike Race on or near the ski mountain in Elkhorn village. This was my first real exposure to mountain biking. I was fascinated and also terrified by the amount of speed & skill these guys were riding up and down a mountain with. I was interested but shelling out the dough for a mountain bike in those days was not something I could do and my parents would have laughed at me if I even approached them with the idea. My friend John and I became great friends, played Bass in my various bands and we spent a good portion of our late teens and early to mid 20’s in various adventures together. He’s a big reason behind my interest in the sport. Unfortunately, he moved to Flagstaff just as I inherited my first Mountain bike.
It was nothing special….a fully rigid Specialized Hard Rock. This was before full suspension rigs and before bikes even came with front suspension forks. I began riding it and rediscovered my youth. I started riding regularly on the road to get into shape for trail riding. Nobody I knew was into mtn biking so I had to learn things on my own. It was my first big ride near Ketchum. I took a trail near the lakecreek trailhead not far from the SNRA headquarters. That was the day I fell in love with the bike all over again. It was a perfect ride. It was a religious experience. After a long hard climb up a mountain full of gorgeous trees, meadows and creeks I began my descent. It was a similar sensation to snowboarding. Wind in my face, dirt in my teeth and a big shit eating grin. I felt like I was floating above my bike as I used my legs and arms as shock absorbers. I was once again that 7 year old kid discovering a new found freedom. The cares and responsibilities of the world were miles behind and it was all about the singletrack that lay in front of me. I was hooked.
It wasn’t long after that my dad mentioned half jokingly that he wanted to take the ski lift to the top of Baldy and ride down. He was also an avid rider but mostly rode his mtn bike on the road. He was a former runner who had to switch to the bike because of his bad knees & ankles. So we made a date and did it. Besides being a hell of a lot of fun it I was once again doing one of my favorite childhood past times. Spending time & having an adventure with my dad. We would end up back at the cabin laughing, joking and talking about our adventures on the mountain. Moments I wouldn’t replace for anything.
In 2006 I entered my first (and only to date) mountain bike race. I wanted to push myself and see if I could do it. My only goal was to not finish last. There were 3 others behind me when I crossed the finish line. It was very hard and an amazing experience. I do plan to do this again.
It goes beyond being physically fit. It’s not about winning races, or proving anything to anyone except myself. It’s not about owning the most expensive bike in the world. It goes back to riding off the beaten path which seems to be a lifetime ”motto” for me. It’s all about about finding that rebellious inner 7 year old who found freedom on that wonderful machine, riding those dirt hills without a care in the world. It’s about the wind in my face, the dirt in my teeth and the 10 to 20 yards of visible singletrack in front of me. I’m lucky enough to live in a place where access to some amazing scenery is nearby. This is my mojo, my religion. This is why I ride.
