So Endeth The Lay of Speed VS. The n00b.

So I dropped in by the dog park at Florida Canyon today for the first time. I could see this leg of the trail from my usual drop zone over behind the baseball field.

So.

Let's talk about going downhill really, really fast vs. the n00b. Well perhaps there isn't much to say apart from the fact that I had no idea how downhills speed is inversely proportional to steering when doing 900 mph down a relatively narrow track.

O' how the mighty have fallen... into a serious thicket of stinky weeds!

Here's how it went down: I pedaled like a joyful child past the dog park, avoiding all turdage successfully and dropped in at the trailhead. I continued to pedal, carefree downhill. It was wonderful.

Then I realized I was going faster than I ever had before. Was that a sonic boom I just heard? Did I just pass a Bluebird flying next to me? Did the cars down on Florida St. seem to be moving in slow motion? What's that light at the end of the tunnel? Are those angels singing?

Then I saw it! The wooden bridge over the runoff creek at the very bottom of this run. It was laughing at me, with its huge wooden plank teeth moldering, dripping sap from its weed breakfast. It was happy for soon it would eat a stupid 30 something for lunch.

There was nothing for it. I am not a real mountain biker. I am a n00b. So I did what 15 years of skateboarding have taught me: get low on the rig, lean into it, and take it like a man.

So I hit the the planks going somewhere between 896-907 mph (my internal gauge is a little off), and ran right off the left side of it, caught exactly one pico-second of glorious air before I too ate a weed breakfast.

The rest of the heroes song includes mighty tales of a screwed up derailleur, a chain falling off on the ride home and other such epic details... but at that one big bite of plant cereal pretty much endeth the Lay of Speed VS. the n00b.