Much to my surprise, I’m not alone here.
As it turns out, some people do read this thing, and as such, I need to watch my mouth.
I can’t blindly make fun of someone and not expect to be held accountable. I’ve come to find that the readership is the judge, jury and executioner.
Case in point, on Monday I included an image in which I made tease of an individual’s fashion sense;
Again- photo, pre alteration, shot by Mack Adocious.
As it turns out, the person in question made contact to let me know that from time to time he leaves his big sweater at home and dons a stretchy suit;
So you don’t like my horse sweater, choice in jeans or footwear… would you prefer to see me in a half-unzipped skinsuit?
Photo courtesy Chip Williams.
That’s me getting epic in a golf course sandpit on a steel frame I made myself. I hope my internet credibility is either fully restored or irreparably damaged.
Indeed, upon further inspection, it would appear that Michael not only has a closet full of random pieces of curiously assorted clothing, but it would appear as though he knows his way around a metal shop as well.
So there I go leaping before I look again, and in the process find a fellow out in Chicago who can braze circles around me.
Let that be a lesson to me.
To tip my hat in the general direction of my dear friend 685 and his Pentabike imprint, I will take the opportunity to let any and all who are interested know that he is once again taking pre-orders for his Muststash bar end caps, which for the uninitiated, can be read about here.
The production of these is inconsistent, so if you want to get on the boat, I suggest you reserve your spot now.
In news of standing around, drinking beer and being smug, Mr. Blacksocks and I spent a day dallying around the forest recently taking care of some mudness that has developed in these early Fall deluges.
You know by now that I am a staunch proponent of mountain bikers taking some initiative and doing maintenance of their own trails. Now when I say maintenance, I don’t mean building stunts, jumps, berms, or skinnies. There is a time and a place for that, but as the ground gets soggy, the puddles get deep and a little bit of elbow grease in as far as that’s concerned, goes a long way.
As a matter of fact I ran into an old friend of mine while I was out and in response to me inviting him to help out some time he said “I can think of a lot worse things to do than hang out in the woods and drink beer.”
My thoughts exactly.
Anyway, for your edification, I’ve included a couple of before and after shots to prove that if someone as purely inept as myself can do trail work, then for upstanding and physically superior individuals like yourselves, it should be nothing but a thing.
Now I’m not going to get all preachy here, but I will say that trails are a resource, and in light of some recent occurrences here in my own backyard, a resource that we as mountain bikers sometimes have a tenuous grasp on.
Just like anything you love, you have to take care of them.
This isn’t to say that showing initiative will guarantee us further land access, or that it will even stabilize that which have now, but what it does guarantee is that the trails that we ride- our trails, will at least maintain some semblance of physical health in the mean time, and that, I am perfectly happy to be held accountable for.