If you need me, I'll be right here.

But not before doing my duty here at the shabby pulpit.

It was at some point in the last couple of weeks when I wrote this ode to my new bike, (it's the best new bike) and it was in response to said ode that Chris commented with this link which has sucked me into the deepest of rabbit holes. 

I spent hours pouring over the archives staring at page after page of memories.

I never cared for the race reports so much, but what really captured my imagination were the images of various neighborhood jump spots;

You get the idea, and further exemplifies my lifelong passion for the vacant lot. Though they were simpler times, to be sure, we can all of us still grab ahold of it again all of these years later.

Moving on- and in a funny turn of the Mandela effect, for over thirty years I swore there was a photo of Scot Briethaupt doing a wheelie on a set of rollers, but apparently I was mistaken;

I don't know if I'll ever recover.

Anyway, I sincerely thank Chris for hipping me to that feed, and Johnny Ringo for painstakingly  scanning his archives for the rest of us to enjoy.

Relatedly, Amigo number three and second place single speed finisher (14 seconds behind the 35 year old winner at this years Grinduro),  texted me with the following story which I felt compelled to stitch together and present to folks here;

"I have a cool Eddy Fiola story to share. When I was little, he was my idol. Me, and some friends rode our bikes to this place in Anaheim called the pit. we were hanging out and this dude came flying past us and dropped into the pit, which was this huge ditch jump and flew out the other side doing a massive 360. It was Eddie. We hung out and jumped bikes with him all day. 

I remember he was driving a lifted Toyota truck That had a DIY camo paint job... As if he couldn’t be any cooler. At the end of the day, the end of the day he gave me a ride home, and as a little guy I was like, 'I get to ride in the back of this?!' So stoked. It was one of the coolest days of my life."

Funny thing is as I was perusing the internet after I began writing this post, what should I come across but the following clipping;

I will also note that the years have been extraordinarily kind to Mr. Fiola.

Moving on, I would like to share some words Maurice 'DirtRag' Tierny posted up towards the end of last week that felt real good to read;

I can't believe it's been six years. What an absolute trip, and though I'm not sure of much, but he would hate what's going on in the world today.

Speaking of which, and on that note, the directive to 'go touch grass' has been hitting pretty hard lately. That is to say, any time spent outside is good for a body, and will at least temporarily cure what ails you. After a solid three hours of sleep the other night, I woke up, met up with Joe and Craig for a big fat mountain bike ride which concluded at a trail work day on a new bunch of ripping single track that Alec, Jeff, Bobby, and Stan have been working on for months;

We wrapped it up at the Bear Den (or as I refer to it- The Jack Shack) for some beers, food, and a sprinkling of our friend Beard's ashes. 

 It felt good to be a part, get dirty, and get tired.

That is until I had to get to work for that evening's closing shift, and then I wanted to die, but like I said, touching grass was the important part of the equation.

Before I leave I'd like to tell you to stick the newest episode of Revolting in your pipe and smoke it;

Now that all of that has been addressed, we can go back under the covers where we belong.