him: whaddaya wanna do today?
me: I dunno. ski? climb? ride?
him: (considerable pause) well...whaddaya wanna do?
enter: rps.
we deci(I just realized that this is nowhere NEAR as good a retelling of a rps showdown as one I've read before)ded to go all in. once and done. winner takes all. none of this best outta three shit for us. NO, SIR!!!! sudden death i'tis.
mmmm...but we had to shoot four times cause we kept picking the same thing.
first I was riding and he was skiing.
skiing got its ass chomped.
then I was riding and he was climbing.
climbing fell like a toddler on roller skates.
...so we rode.
whooooooooo, lawdy it was cooold going down that hill (the hill, btw, which I rode the ENTIRE way up and out of to the car for the very first time today).
got to the bottom, took the right instead of the left (some of my favoritist trails on earth are on the right) and immediately hit a patch of ice.
^ not my picture...and not enough ice
boom. crash. ding. (<----the ding was the sound of my dome ringing)
first thought: do people ride this shit? yup. apparently they do.
as we continued at a snail's pace (and old dude power walking lapped me twice) I started to realize several things:
snow=traction
ice=piddle in me panties
oqui didn't give a shit and rode the slick stuff.
we took it super easy (had to. I kept shitting myself in terror). some places were just frozen mud. some places were wet mud. some places were sheets of ice and some (thank you, beezlebubb) were blessed, dry, crunchy and ooooh so inviting leaves (2 months ago, btw, I was scared of riding over leaves).
I fell once riding, once walking my bike and once just regular walking (I'm good like that).
we stopped to admire the sunset over the lake. oqui skipped a stone. he threw 15...one skipped. the old dude walking passed us again and then we headed back to the car.
we had to cross that first (killah) patch of ice again...this time going up. I had to choose:
am I gonna do this?
welp, I certainly tried. I made it, too.
ironically, while scared witless on the uber-ice my internal mantra was:
come on. get it. it's just like riding a bike.
.
3 comments:
Complete with enough 'trail spice' to whip up a 5-course Indian meal. Snot bubbles, rockets, rooster tail mud tracks, snow and ice, horse dung, splitter splatter from peeing on a downed branch, sharting and skid marks, sweat and frozen tears from ripping the downhills equals true love.
Allow me to refer you:
www.forty15.com/blog/2007/07/jankenpon.html
there's no denying you possess flair, mr. rotten.
I, however, seem to have cornered the market on poo humor.
I fart in your general direction.
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