Saturday morning I went for a ride with a local church group; yes I, he of little faith rode with a church group. I got to the trails at 8 a.m. which is a few hours before they arrived to stretch the legs and enjoy the brisk 34° weather. Upon arrival and before heading out a blessing was said for safety and for the bikes! So I proceeded to ride for the next hour with a blessed bike! It was a group of the "haves" and the "have-nots", there were some experienced riders and some newbie's, some cool bikes and some old rigids; no-one seemed to care. Anyway the riding was pretty good.
The wife has a fear though, and that is that they are out to get me, to get me to convert to one of them; a regular churchgoer, a Wednesday night-Sunday morning parishioner, a 10% donator. She thinks Chris, the rider I met who was on a Santa Cruz Blur, is a spy. She thinks they sent a guy out that is like me, who rides the same brand bike to buddy up with me and get me to church. Well....I've got news; maybe I'll be working on Chris trying to show him the light and bring him over to the darkside. Show him how great Sunday morning rides are, how fantastic Turkey Mtn. is on a Sunday morning when everyone else is at church and get him interested in the more important things in life. Bikes, booze, and boobs!
One last thing; I had to spend 7.5 hours wearing a orange vest and carrying a walkie-talkie around my daughters soccer tournament being a Marshall. Needless to say I was disappointed to not get a badge and pistol. Anyway, it was cold, wicked cold, tiring, boring, and lonely all at the same time. But, during the last game everyone was murmuring about how Garth Brooks was on the other field and didn't want to be "disturbed" watching his daughters' game. Well, me being me just strolled over during halftime of my daughters 2nd game and started chatting to some other guy (evidently Marshall's are respected) about the weather and other crap and Garth just strolls up and starts chatting with me. We talked for about 5 minutes or so then I go on to talk to the coach and make sure everything's OK in his world and do my duties and then begin to stroll back to my post at my daughters' game and once again he chats me up. I'd always thought he'd be a big ol' dick since he came off as such an ass kisser in interviews but come to find out he's just a regular old guy who probably really wants to be left the fuck alone like the rest of us. I should have given him a card for this blog and got him on a mtn. bike instead of a horse. His house is on a couple of hundred acres that'd make a kick ass freeride park.
Party on Garth.
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