Headed to Uwharrie this past Saturday. Trying to not replicate last weekend's missed connection and actually ride with Nick and Chase as opposed to just leaving them in the parking lot and never seeing them again.
Riding to the trail in Nick's Nissan increased my odds of success by at least 50%. I'm happy that Nick has a truck because now we can wave at other truck users in acknowledgement of our shared love of all things truck.
Different group than I'd ever ridden with before. Different experience as well.
They liked to ride as fast as possible in ten to fifteen minute intervals and then stand around at trail intersections and swap recipes.
The main rule of Mexican food dining is that you always gets the novelty sized 32oz Dos Equis if you're not driving. Otherwise, you are abusing the privilege of being a passenger.
"I don't like mole sauce, and I'm full?"
Full? This is special dinner.
"How can you walk away from this challenge with only one item to go? That's like being a hundred yards from the finish line of a mountain bike race and just quitting."
"That's a terrible analogy," he replied.
"Okay. It's like you're getting gas, and when the pump shuts off because your tank is full, you pull out the nozzle and just spray gas all over your car."
Once I started in on the last meat tube on my plate that corresponded to the one remaining on Nick's plate, he saw that it was identifiable as a "tamale."
"Awww, man. I like tamales."
He crossed the finish line that day.
On the way home, we were pretty sure a State Trooper was pulling us over as he sped past pointing his finger to the side of the road. It wasn't us he was after, and when we knew we were in the clear, I asked Nick if he just got "cop heart."
He'd never heard of such a thing, but when I explained it, he said he did.