DEVIL’S BEAR REPORT
From the Queen of Slow
I got to the Kingdom of the South on Friday evening. I was looking for my compadres from River City Dirt Riders. When I saw two sets of manly legs sticking from underneath a truck, I knew I had found them.
That rear end looks familiar. Yeah, that’s Doktor Klint!
This generous and technically gifted man can often be found wrenching on a friend’s equipment.Neither the equipment or the friendship are ever the same afterwards
Mission accomplished and we celebrated by eating large amounts of dead animals in a nearby town. Discretion, amnesia and the desire not to testify against friends keep me from describing the truck ride with the compadres to and from the restaurant. I shall just say that long ago I lost my chance to die young while doing reckless things… but driving with Doktor Klint gave me a new chance to die in middle age while others do reckless things. Anyway, all well.
Saturday morning we were ready and eager to do reckless things on two wheels.
Please notice how my slowness skills have been rubbing off my riding companions. The Dr. is practicing “riding in place”. I am very proud of him.
We proceed to the bike colonoscopy station.
It’s all right, Rick. Don’t look so anxious. It will not hurt. I promise.
There were six of us and we split into two groups. The guardian angel normally assigned to me (“Guns”) this time had his wings full watching over Clint and Smitty. As the keeper of the only roll chart in that group, Guns was busy navigating AND leading fast and frisky riders. A big job even for an archangel.
I heard that they went 130 miles REAL FAST, but where exactly I do not know. Apparently they do not know either, because somebody from that group reported that “all the ribbons had already been pulled from the route” (??????).
Unfortunately the devil took his due … and after a few opportunities for sampling the fine richloam soil of Withlacoochee State Forest… a dear friend, very experienced rider, a veteran of countless hare scrambles and enduros had to take a side tour to a medical facility in Jacksonville. But don’t worry, his bike is fine.
The slow team distinguished itself, I must say.
This is us before the ride. Queen of Slow and GuardianAngels for the Day: Rick and Nathan.
I love the color coordination.
We held regular technical consultations. Three fine minds (well, two at least), three roll charts, one GPS, three continuously checked odometers… I love travelling with engineer types! It makes getting lost together a real pleasure.
Our route had ribbons throughout. And of the correct color too!
It must have been the wrong route, obviously.
I will not say anything about the sand. I said it all while riding, and sadly, I ran out of expletives in all the three languages I speak.
Speaking of mud, instead….
“Nathan, I wonder what this is.”
“I think it is called “muck", dad”.
“And how do you know?”
“I just did some technical testing of my own”.
I deftly avoided all the muck, but I now know where I can hide a Wohlswagen bus in the forest. (I know, you can tell my age by this reference).
Some of the water holes- now dry- are of STUPENDOUS proportions.
How deep is the hole, Swampy? – Way too frikking deep!!!
We cut the ride short about ¾ of the way because the sweep crew and I had already swapped all the bs stories we knew and it was time to let them finish their job. We made it home with some pavement, but what a LOVELY RIDE!! The smell of the orange groves was worth the trip by itself. That cut through the hill at Trilby is a very very special place. Makes me happy just remembering it.
Anyway, all was well with Team Slow. It took us so long to complete the trip that we grew beard and mustache in the process.
In the evening, the last man standing and the last woman standing joined the festivities.
Nice Margaritaville music. People were finning to the left
and finning to the right
Come on Larry! Don’t wimp out on me! Get a DIRT bike!
Like this one for example
Say cheese! A photoop with the King of Swamp !
And the morning after……
I was informed of two things:
a) I was the only member of our 6-rider contingent who had not had a close encounter with the fine soil of Withlacootchee StateForest. The statistical law of probabilities looked pretty ominous at that point; and
b) I was the only remaining member of Team Slow and therefore would ride all 130 miles of sand all by myself. That was a daunting prospect.There is no fun in getting lost and cursing loud if there is nobody to do itwith.
Therefore I made a majestic decision.
Hopped on the van, headed north on 75 and got off at Osceola National Forest. Just in time to grab the Husky and go scouting the routes for the Black Bear with Mundy and Alex.
Fifty miles of fast fun and frolic. (Help! That’s a tongue twister!)
And NO SAND!!!
And that is why the title of this report is
(Sort of a “surf and turf” combo)
See ya all soon at our Black Bear ride in mid May. It is going to be the best ever.
Queen of Slow