Sunday morning. Wake up. Get coffee.
Get a text:
It took me about 20 minutes to decide.
My options were be lazy and start drinking too early at home? Or go and try to break my neck on a dirt bike in honor of the warmest winter day ever?
I told him I'd be there.
Then I took a shower and pulled my old beater dirty bike, a 1978 Yamaha IT250, out of the garage. It started first kick. So I let it warm up for a couple minutes. Took it around the block. Loaded it in the van.
I already had an '05 Honda CRF250R loaded in the van, ready to go. But I like a challenge, so I figured I'd ride the old beater bike.
Geff ended up pulling into the parking lot right behind me. He showed up with two friends. One on a '15+ Honda CRF450X and the other on a '17 Yamaha YZ450F. Geff brought his trusty '12 or '13 or whatever badge-engineered KTM/Husaberg FE501.
The dude on the Honda was missing a fastener for his bark busters, AKA hand guards. I gave him a spare out of my stash. He was amazed I had a bolt that fit on hand. I have all sorts of spares in the moto van. The moto van deserves its own post. One day! Soon!
Everyone was amazed I showed up with such an old bike. The bike's older than I am. I love the old stuff. I grew up in the 90s. I was raised on stacks of car and motorcycle magazines from the 70s and 80s. So even though I wasn't there, I know plenty about what went down during the 70s and 80s in moto land. Stuff was a lot cooler way back when. Either that, or I just like the old stuff because it's nostalgic for me.
Anyway, that top pic was taken at the top of a pretty mean climb. Geff and I were the only ones who made it up. We ran into the other two duders on our way down. Both of them had eaten shit multiple times. The dude on the Yamaha bloodied his elbow. We regrouped at the bottom of the climb.
I started out in the back. I figured I'd be the slow guy. Geff is seriously stinking fast, a really experienced/talented rider. He always leads the pack. After that climb, everyone insisted I stay behind Geff and in front of everyone else.
To be fair, you could have skied down that trail in certain places. The trick is to use all of the traction you can get on clear or semi-clear trail to gain enough momentum to propel your arse over the snowy, icy, slick spots. You can't just whack the throttle open whenever you need it, as though it's a dry summer day. Riding dirt bikes in the mountains of Colorado in February requires a little extra strategy.
The trail was 100% covered with snow and ice in some spots. Again, the trick is momentum. Also, the DEEP SNOW has more traction than the worn down, icy spots. Not much but some. And when you turn the bars and the front wheel slides, your best bet is to just go with it unless going with it means going off a cliff.
Here's a more panoramic shot, which may be more demonstrative of the conditions we faced this weekend:
Then it got interesting. We stopped to goof off at a spot called "MOAB HILL". It's called that because it looks like something you'd see in Moab, UT. You can do a Google search if you wanna see it that bad.
I went to start my bike. It wouldn't start. I RAN OUT OF FUCKING GAS.
Good news: it's all downhill from here.
Bad news: "all downhill" means there's gonna be a few tiny, intermittent climbs.
The two slower guys and I worked out a system. They'd ride down the hills and stop at the bottoms, before the rises. Then they helped me push my turd of a bike over the hills, so I could downhill-mountain-bike it along to the trail head.
Geff ran out ahead and eventually returned with a water bottle full of petrol. The gas wasn't mixed, but I figured I'd only use it when I really needed it.
I made it back to the trail head before the other riders got truly annoyed with me. And I didn't blow my bike up, either. Want a pro tip? Your two-stroke dirtbike will run for a pretty damn long time if you forget to mix the gas! It won't run forever though!
I drained that shit out and replaced it w/ some premix when I got home.
All in all it was a killer, unexpected group ride in the mountains of Colorado, in February. Some hiccups for sure, but us dirty bike folk take care of our own! If your shit ran out of gas, I'd push you up the hills too! NO QUESTIONS ASKED!!!
Last pic is yours unruly, having a smoke at the top of the hill. Notice my ultra high tech riding gear! Fucking canvas work pants, a base layer for my torso, and a bicycle jersey (not pictured but still present: proper helmet, goggles, gloves, knee + elbow pads)!!
