*"while" is used simply because that's about how long it is in comparison to the adolescent pimples we crest daily here in Nashvegas. sorry kids, KOM don't mean shit here in acne land. go earn it, punk.
an opportunity to get tired of coasting should never be frowned upon... the below digitally enhanced photograph is but one of the sights one can enjoy while ascending, or descending, for a few miles in the parts kin to the end of the AT. the climbs were climbs, gracious with pain and budding with agony. what goes up, must flow like ribbon draped along the contours of the glacial gift, interrupted only by the studder of washboards and the melting of newly laid gravel while pinning the turns. the kinetic energy bound in the wheels throwing you into the next rise. which is the definition of bliss.
i have to say, as much as i have enjoyed the local and regional rides and trails and hills and dales, there is something about mountains that i'ma gunna need more of...
there was also this little gem right around the time you cross the border and back. another trail i had been hearing about, but hadn't the opportunity to enjoy. there's lotsa new stuff going on within just a few hours of where you live, no matter where you live, that you should take a weekend to explore. remember why you started riding anyway... because you were to young to drive, and too old to play in the street. take advantage of it now.
and speaking of playing in the street, Jut rolled into town for a quick ride with the remaining and un-detained crew to enjoy a little bike and beer time travel. so good to get to ride with some of the oldies.
memories of tearing through downtown following the lines of those with decades of repeating the same steps to re-entry was almost artistic. starting as a snap through a changing light, we would charge four or five blocks in a blister of curb transitions to loading docks and moguls of landscaping tied to back sides of raised lots. a quick jaunt across the river brought us around many of summer's night haunts long since passed. it is interesting the way my riding has changed in those years since. i've gone more for speed and distance than attempting flight. not sure if it's age, or the yearning for a more tangible and lengthy flow, utilizing the traffic controls to garner place in line.
after all this fun, why the hell not go to the airport? and hey, let's make it frightening!
my brother came to town for the holidaze, which is always nice. the old man picked me up and hauled me kicking and screaming to the airport to pick him up. pops is, well, kinda a scary dude behind the wheel. it's as if he feels he is alone to utilize all four lanes, including those designed for approaching cars, at his sole discretion. i'm so looking forward to the day we have to revoke his car keys. it'll be one hell of a fight.
we motored into piles of artery clogging, salt infested, coronary surgeon's daughter's tuition to Brown funding, carnival of culinary kick-ass-country cookin'. one thing the ol' folks casa stocks is tons of vein plugging victuals (which everyone spells as vittles). i myself, produced a twelve pack and a flask for me and my sibling to enjoy onced all the elderly and yungins retired after the evening's adventures of eating and big screen tv-ing.
back at the shophaus, i sat back and started pecking this post. but then, i thought, you know what, i should do something nice. i should be thankful for all i've received.
so being the giving season i started to think, and took the bearded wonder elf out for a drink. he wove tales of you slepping while he sniffed of your hair, locking lips with yer mom in her underwear, stealing liquor and food all over the world, to dumps without flushing and leaving the turd. then, with his finger to his nose, he let out a chuckle, and that's when the tequila kicked in, and his knees started to buckle.
he laid on the floor in a puddle of piss, and all i could think was, "ain't life a bitch?"
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