Separate names with a comma.
Discussion in 'Ride Reports - Day Trippin'' started by WHYNOWTHEN, Jun 21, 2012.
A Toyota! that's not really riceless?
Yeah Topi, but the muffler is off a KTM 950S
Time for the big hammer!
This is Little Whynowthen. Also known as Gofasterdaddy!
You can read more about us here:
Summer in Ramona = 94 degrees Fahrenheit.
"Near Ramona" is just as hot, if not hotter.
Kennedy Meadows is nice and cool this time of year.
Six hour drive. No AC in the big green beast. Poor dog in the back seat.
Awesome riding in the land of a thousand dusty push-ups.
"No my love, the trails aren't all hard"
"Ok baby, just the blue trails."
"Just a few whoops, baby."
"What about this black one, but?"
"You can do it."
Wonderful weather. Great trails. Dusty and fun.
Rollergirl says that she rides much better when there are other women riding too.
These two look like a couple of Starwars figures.
Rules rules rules rules rules! In the land where we are told that we are free.
This one makes sense - spark arresters required on all vintage motorcycles!
I hate being told what to do. I turned left, came back, then turned right, came back, then went straight. Without the sign I would have simply gone straight.
See the little sign on the left?
Can we please fire the brain-trust responsible for this one? What a wonderful use of our tax dollars! Who would have thought that a steep rocky uphill off-road trail might have a steep rocky and rough corner that we may have to slow down for?
It doesn't seem as if too many people agree with this sign. If the forest service plants a sign in the middle of a trail, exclaiming that this is not a trail, it doesn't make the trail not exist.
View of a sign from the south.
View of same sign from the north.
This sign was in the middle of a section of trail, not at the beginning or end.
Dear forest service, how are we supposed to know that you don't want us on this particular patch of dirt if you don't tell us at the beginning?How was I supposed to get off this illegal patch of dirt without riding on an apparently illegal patch of dirt? I wish I had a horse.
This one is easy - No vintage bikes on this trail!
This one was easy too - No riding modern bikes with open face helmets on this trail!
Rules are rules my friend!<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comfficeffice" /><o></o>
Riding on all the trail that exists would resort to anarchy and chaos.<o></o>
This message has been approved by the greentooth coalition.<o></o>
You should check out Baja. Lots of trails... no signs.
Pretty Near Ramona too I think
From the look of that pic, more like "no sign.... of lots of trails"
I heard that Baja was so dangerous that you moved as far away as possible. Are you missing the color brown yet?
Last Sunday. Nothing crazy.
Lots of brown!
Rollergirl doesn't even get helmet hair.
This has absolutely nothing to do with riding. Pretty funny though.
Looks like a damn fine setup you got out there man! KTMs, a more than understanding partner and a developing country on your doorstep to ride where there are no signs! Keep on!
Thank you Osadabwa. Mexico reminds me of Africa in many ways. People seem to be slower, happier and more involved with living than getting.
Here in the land where we are told that we are free, a lot of us seem to overlook the process of actually living. We spend most of our time chasing the carrot-that-we-can-never-catch.
I passed through Dar about 20 years ago on a very dirty bicycle. I wish I could remember it better.
If you are rant-phobic, skip over this post!
I am usually a happy and content man. I have a wonderful wife, daughter, dog, cat, KTMs, a big dirty truck, a job with a great boss, a developing country nearby that I can ride in, and a few fantastic San Diego beers in my fridge.
Today, however, I am feeling depressed. I am depressed because of self-awareness. I am finding it difficult to ignore my leash. My two day leash. I am more aware of my two-day-leash because those in command have decided to give the peasants a three day leash.
We get to think about going just a little further before we have to turn around and come back. An extra day of dust and gas and tires and beers and sweaty camping! This in itself is not making me sad.
I have been thinking about my birthday weekend in about a months time (I sound like a little kid). I'm thinking of stretching out another three day leash and heading south. I am looking for another little pizza slice of the one and a half day circle that I get to explore. It is funny to think that gas could be a major problem less than a day away from San Diego. I am not someone who likes to blaze down the freeway on a two wheeled couch to test the constraints of my leash. I like exploring skinny singletrack trying to tie my leash in a knot.
A few years back, when Dick Cheney was busy shooting friends in the face, and lots of us were starting to get in line, getting ready to hand our houses over to the banks that were lending us more money than we could ever pay back, I was not aware of the carrot-effect. Then the economy took the shit that only the blind hadn't seen coming. I saw it coming, but was too sedated by an easy life, large TV, and larger mortgage payments, to do much to get out of the way of the shit. So, the bank took back their house. Some yahoo in a honda civic T-boned my new Dodge truck. My mortgage payment (or attempts at payments ) went away. And somehow I felt better. I hadn't sold my bikes, just to stay in the house for another few months. I kept the bikes and got out of the house early.
The carrot was gone! My life changed a lot. I still had my bikes. I had food and beer. I cancelled the evil cable and felt free-er than I ever had since coming to this country. I moved to San Diego and rode a lot in the nearer parts of Mexico.
I have been content - till yesterday perhaps.
I went for a little dirt bike ride around Ramona. Something was wrong. I purposefully got the bike stuck a few times to see whether a little excitement might perk me up. I did enjoy the process of getting the bike back on the trail, but then my one hour leash snugged up tight and I turned around and came home. I am depressed because I am aware of the leash. When I wasn't aware of the carrot, I wasn't depressed by it. I only became aware of the carrot when I became aware of the absence of the carrot. Now I am aware of the leash while the leash is still here.
Like the rest of you that inhabit the 'Day Trippin' zone, I read enviously about the hardy folks in the 'Ride Reports' zone. Those folk somehow have longer leashes. A few of them have even cast off their leashes and are running free. Some of the Ride Report readers sometimes ask the far-away writer "If you don't mind me asking, how do you do it?" The writer offers to pm the wishful reader. Do they explain how they can afford to go, or how they figured out how to get a longer leash?
Thanks for listening. I feel better now. I used to have no leash. I left my parents home on a bicycle in 1993 with three thousand dollars. That lasted me a year and got me half way around this little planet. I now live with a wonderful wife in a place where I can hear a pack of coyotes howl each night, and Mexico is less than an hour away. I am content and finally sleepy, and I am aware of my leash. At least I can dream about my time off between Christmas and New Year, and how Rollergirl and I are going to ride to Cabo San Lucas and back. Ten day leash! Yay!
I thoroughly enjoyed reading your stuff. Thanks for picking up my day.
With a wife and kid... and all the associated bills... I have pretty much given up on being able to loose the collar altogether. At least for a while.
My goal has been mearly to go from this: