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Stories
and Tall Tales
Come
to the Dark Side (A
bit of prose on night riding, by John Gruener)
The Jedi. No, not the magical warriors of
Star Wars fame. A mountain bike trail behind Chapel Hill
High School. Its moniker is derivative from the fabled
trilogy, though, and more directly from the trenches of
the empire's Death Star. You remember when Luke and Wedge
fly their X-wing fighters narrowly avoiding obstacles in
their attempt to fire a pair of proton charges into the
exhaust vent of the Death Star? A similar rush is
experienced careening down this narrow track through the
trees, varying in width from three feet to ever so
slightly wider than your handlebar.
There is a unique energy, a tingle, that
encompasses you and your friends as you straddle the top
tube of your mountain bike on the brink of a night
mountain bike ride. Even on the drive to the trail a
sharp eye can notice puzzled looks from other drivers at
the bikes on top of your car and your cycling
dress—at nine o'clock at night in the dark. At the
trailhead each rider is tooling around, testing her
lights, checking his shifting, making last minute
adjustments. There is a mystique to mountain biking, but
a group of people ready to embark on a ride in the dark
feels a little something extra. No one voices it, but
each rider senses it: "We're going biking at night.
That's just cool."
Regardless of one's choice of lighting
system, the field of view is limited to at best ten feet
to each side and twenty-five feet ahead. This boils down
to a small glow of light in a big forest of darkness.
Whether you choose a single light, dual light, handlebar
mount, helmet mount, or some combination thereof, only
determines how much detail is visible in the
aforementioned field of view. You still can't see the
tree you're headed straight for thirty feet ahead, but
maybe you can see the small stump ten feet ahead, or
maybe you can't.
Under the cover of night The Jedi
engenders much truer imagery likening it to its namesake.
I am often reminded of the old Star Wars video game with
its black and white graphics. You're always looking at
the very front edge of where your light reaches, the
trail unraveling before your eyes. There are only moments
to glimpse the obstacle you'll encounter in about a
second and to contemplate your line. Trees whiz past you
on either side in a blur. The tree canopy is only a few
feet above and you can't but feel like you're falling
through a tunnel, walled in on every side by trees. But
at fifteen or twenty miles an hour with your narrow beam
of light there isn't much color, just lots of lines
passing through your vision faster than you can associate
them with shapes. It's a psychedelic, almost mesmerizing
or hypnotic barrage of information. Ironically, night
riding can be less scary than riding in the day as you
likely won't realize how much danger you just narrowly
avoided. All you know is the small sphere of light that
surrounds you and the other riders as you whoop and
holler bombing through trees, leaning this way and that
to avoid parking your bike on a tree that encroaches the
narrow trail that is called The Jedi. You may have ridden
it during the day, but you haven't lived it until you
ride it at night. There's a whole new world that you
can't see. So grab your lights or borrow a friend's. Go
live The Jedi.
Saw a couple of girls on the trail today By Tim Broyer
Got laid off from work the other day. One
of life’s curve balls just hit me square on the
chin. Not having much to do besides look for a job, I
have been riding almost every day. I ride the Harris Lake
trails in New Hill, NC a lot because they are decent
single track and are close to the house. The price of gas
is now very apparent to me.
It was a pretty cold day for North
Carolina, hovering around 40 degrees. I brought my new
single speed mountain bike that I had bought while still
employed. I swapped out the brakes that were on it with a
nicer set from my old mountain bike. This ride was going
to be fun, but it was also planned to be a tune-up ride
for my newly installed brakes. The park was virtually
empty, besides a prison gang spreading mulch around the
picnic areas. I jumped on the trail and relished the
cool, crisp air as I rode. I was probably the only person
in the park who didn’t work there. I surmised that I
had the whole trail to myself.
My rides as of late have been very
therapeutic. It’s not easy losing your job and can
be down right depressing. Riding has kept me busy. It has
given me time alone to think and also given me time alone
not to think! I look forward to each ride as a chance to
go out and truly be myself. Just Tim, cruising down the
trail, jumping logs and climbing hills.
On this day’s ride, I wasn’t
doing too much thinking. I was pushing it a little hard,
something I like to do when it is cold. Helps me to stay
warm. I rode alone, fast and with little trepidation.
Harris Lake trails border its namesake. Parts of the
track are right along the water edge. It is some of the
prettiest trail around the triangle. I have ridden it
probably fifty times and always seem to find something to
appreciate. Today would be no exception.
About 10 minutes into my ride, I stopped
to adjust my rear brake. I jumped off my bike and ditched
my camelback to retrieve my multi-tool. It was going to
be a quick adjustment on the rear brake and I would
quickly be rolling again. I heard something move in the
brush just in front of me. I looked up, and to my
surprise, saw two female deer standing there looking at
me. I was probably 8-10 feet from them. They looked at
me, and I looked at them. They didn’t run, which is
what I thought they would do. Most deer bolt at the sight
of a human. But not these two girls, they stood and
stared at me. One of them resumed eating some wild grass
that grows by the edge of the lake. It was an awesome
sight. They are very beautiful, gentile animals. Inside,
I was screaming how cool this encounter is. On the
outside, I was frozen. I didn’t want to disturb
them. This was their home; I was just passing through. I
gingerly picked up my things and walked down the trail
another 10-15 yards. There, I finished adjusting my
brakes all the while the two does ate grass and looked at
me. I wondered what they thought of me, clad in spandex
and a helmet, tinkering on my steel contraption. I guess
they had probably seen my type before. They eventually
crossed the trail and slowly headed away from me.
With a huge grin on my face, I resumed my
ride. I felt lucky to have shared their home for a few
brief moments and look forward to seeing them on the
trail again. They sure were a nice couple of girls and I
was glad to have met them. Never know who or what you are
going to see while riding. It is one of the many reasons
why I love to ride a bike. Things don’t look so
depressing now.
Just
for Laughs
10 ways to tell if you have a biking
problem (by Kristine)
1. Your bike is worth more than your car.
2. You can predict your bike's moods better than
your spouse's.
3. You schedule business meetings based on the
weather forecast.
4. You can easily change clothes in your car.
5. You measure your daily water intake in camelbacks.
6. Your only bathroom reading material is bike
magazines.
7. Your friends don't understand why you can't find
time to clean house, work in the yard, or buy groceries
on sunny weekends.
8. The guys at the bike shop know more about what's
going on in your life than your mother does.
9. Your dog has chain grease on him.
10. You don't have a problem with buying beer in
tights and clipless shoes.
