STOKED (adj.) Full of enthusiasm!: V-I-C-T-O-R-Y

What happened to the dirtbiking world for the few years that I've been out of it?

So we took the kids up to Hollister Hills to go dirtbiking Saturday. The rainfall has left the ground perfectly tacky. The smell of 2-stroke exhaust was in the air (I LOVE that smell.) It was a beautiful day and we were ready to ride.

But the Blue Bully had a different plan in mind. Yes, the same dirtbike that treated me so abusively during my kids' race a while back. But you know what they say about the abused.... we can't stay away. We always go back for more.

I thought this time would be different. I thought the hours of greasy, black hands and test-driving down my street was the perfect rehabilitation. We were reunited again and ready to give it another go.

But I guess the relationship isn't worth it. For the Blue Bully anyway. I was bringing up the rear of the pack, watching my little ones closely when Beau went down. I hopped off my bike to free him from the mud pit that seemed ready to swallow the little guy whole. And what do you know? My bike wouldn't start. It quit. Threw in the towel. I kicked it several times, trying to get some sort of reaction but to no avail. The thing sat there like a dud. So I tried to jump start it. Still nothing. So I began to push. When I would get tired of pushing or when I had pushed to a safe place (whichever came first) I would try to start it again. And it did start... a few times. But only to tease, taunt, & torment me. Once it even started and just SCREAMED at me! It was whining at full throttle even though I wasn't touching the throttle at all. And I knew if I let go of the clutch it would speed off out of my hands and over the cliff to a sure death. Now my bike and I might not get along but nothing is as bad as that!!! So I tried to choke it (using the choke lever) and it still wouldn't die down. Finally I shut off the gas and that seemed to do the trick. It just slowly whined down until it was out of steam. Exhausted. Nothing left to say.

Brandon found me and offered to switch bikes but I sent him on his way to take care of our children. This was my fight. I was saying goodbye to the Blue Bully once and for all. No knight in shiny orange armor was going to save me this time. Besides, if I wasn't going to ride, I might as well get some cardio over with and flake on the date I had with the treadmill that evening.

So back to pushing I went. Now here is where my burning question comes in. I repeat:

What has happened to this sport?

Would you believe that of all of the groups of riders that passed by me only 5 stopped to see if I needed help? FIVE!!!! Two old guys with gray hair, one slightly older gentleman with a red hammer mustache, a teenage boy, and a 10 year old girl on a quad. A GIRL stopped to see if she could help!!! Shameful! All the 50 plus other riders that passed by me during those few miles back to my truck just hit the gas upon passing, flinging rocks and mud at me. Oh, did I mention that I was pushing UPHILL?

I thanked these 5 people but politely sent them on their way. Even though I wouldn't take their help it was still nice to know that they offered. And I appreciated that they slowed down before passing me so as not to roost me with debris traveling at high-velocities.

Now here is the clencher. When I was about 100 yards from our truck and at the steepest part of the push (through the stinging sweat that was dripping into my eyes) I noticed two young men looking at me and exchanging words in hushed voices. I thought to myself, "Self, have faith in the human race. These young gents are about to offer some more help. Smile politely and tell them that your camp is just up the road but thanks anyways." So imagine my surprise when they had the audacity to say, "Hey, do you happen to have an extra helmet we can borrow?"

WHAT??? Come again? Are you kidding me? Surely they jest, right? Wrong!

"What?" I asked, even though I knew what they had said. I guess I was giving them an opportunity to re-think their ridiculous request.

"Do you happen to have an extra helmet we can borrow?" they repeated.

"Ummmmmmm..." This is where I was trying to get myself to simmer down and not say what I was REALLY thinking. ".......ummmmmm, no. I'm kind of busy with my own problems at the moment, but thanks for asking."

They had dumbstruck looks on their faces. Could they really be that clueless? I was ready to go spank my boys right then and there just in case they committed any similiar stupid act in the future.

Then our friend rode over and tried to take the bike from me. He must have thought Brandon was the biggest jerk for sitting back at the truck eatting his sandwhich while I pushed. But Brandon knows me too well and knew that I wouldn't give in. I told our friend that I was almost there and if HE pushed the bike back then the bike won. But if I pushed it to the very end then I would be the victor.

I made it. I finished. V-I-C-T-O-R-Y! And here's what I did with the rest of my day: