If you find a bear cub or baby giraffe or something on the side of the road and bring it home and raise it, you can delude yourself into thinking it's all domesticated, but you have to know in the back of your mind that there's always the chance that the wildness that can't be totally and completely purged will emerge for just a split second. If/when it happens, you're hosed.
I understand that this isn't Wild Kingdom and we're not talking animal babies . . . we're talking dirt. But shit, I just thought that based on the Frankensteinian process I endured to give this particular batch of dirt some fabulous life, it would somehow honor me. Wrong, apparently.
We all love innocent baby animals and dirt, but hell, at some point, a bit of retaliation is in order. I'm thinking C4. I seriously doubt that I can bring myself to destroy that which I have created, but at least I can dream.
One thing's for sure: It's not enough to simply love your pump track; you must also respect it.