Dirt Biking!?
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Ad said we could ride his old dirt bike while we were at his Dad's farm in Vermont. I was secretly looking forward this -- hopping on, wearing the helmet, going in a couple circles, and then saying 'I went dirt biking in Vermont.'
Unfortunately, that dirt bike was nowhere to be found. Ad insisted that we could go dirt biking in California, and I agreed before realizing what this meant. (Example question: "Hey Ad, does 'dirt biking' mean that I'm going to get... dirty?")CA dirt biking does not consist of hopping on and driving in a circle: We woke up at 7am, borrowed bikes/gear in San Jose, loaded up a trailer, and drove 1.5 hours to Hollister where we entered a giant dirt biking park full of testosterone.
My first observation, after finally agreeing to get on the bike, was that dirt biking is hard. I was too wussy to actually go fast enough, and would habitually fall over, making 1mph slow-motion descents to the ground, due to lack of speed required to keep the two wheeler upright. On the trails, little kids (and I mean LITTLE ) on tiny motorcycles zoomed by as I clutched my handlebars so tight my arms got sore. After each fall, hlepful testosterone-filled bikers stopped to pick my bike up for me, so I would continue on my merry 1mph way.
"You know," Ad said proudly at the end of the day, "I think you got up to about 8 mile an hour." He wasn't kidding. But whatever... despite all the drama, 8mph dirt biking was fun!
