And then, there was an annual fatbike gathering in the the Methow Valley, this weekend. I had decided not to go, because I really didn't have the time to spend in Winthrop to make what amounts to about an 8-hour round trip drive worthwhile. And I didn't really want to spend the money. (Haha, hold this thought.) That's storyline 2.
As of late Friday afternoon, I had no idea regarding what/how/if the January BikeEVENTure was gonna happen. Storyline 3.
All 3 storylines came crashing wildly together this weekend in a spontaneous, fiery, chain-reaction collision.
It all started with a text from my jackass *pal* Dave, who had gone to Winthrop for the fatbike get-together. Included in the text was a pic of a spanky new Blackborow on the floor at Methow Cycle and Sport. In guess what? My size. Actually, the pic was all that was in the text. Quiet as a church mouse, otherwise. A-hole.
In hindsight, maybe my sub-conscious mind was made up at that exact moment, but I can tell you for sure that my conscious mind never got the memo, because it was a long a restless night. Long story short, though, I had decided by 6:30 on Saturday morning that I was taking a road trip. To, ummm, "check it out". Yeah, right.
Fast forward a few hours and I was loitering in the buzzing bee's nest that was Methow Cycle and Sport, waiting for the owner, Joe, to return, so we could "talk shop", if you will pardon the pun, about the shiny, sexy, fattest of the fats residing on the floor. When who should walk in, but Dave and his merry band of demons. (I won't mention names, but their initials are Angie and Abel.) Momentarily surprised to see me there, it didn't take long for them to figure out that I was totally whipped and in a state of zero control over my desire, and they did not hesitate to pile on. It got ugly.
Long story short again, my credit card got duly swiped, and I entered into full ownership. Only trouble being, the 30+ strong group of attendees had sorta blown their wad on the "official" morning ride. I, on the other hand, had spent my morning with my ass planted in the driver's seat of my truck, and I was full of new-bike piss and vinegar. Luckily, three awesome dudes - Chris, Shawn and John - threw down, and we hit the trails.
|Major mondo meat.|
|Shawn (of NW Fatbike fame) near, with Chris up ahead.|
|Chris, rockin' his badass homebrew neon orange pogies. Word.|
|Shawn and John.|
|We were compelled to stop and photo-nerd-out. Of course. You would have laughed at the hilarity of the dork-fest, had you witnessed it. Which you did not. Unfortunately for you, fortunately for us.|
|Steamy trailside ungulates.|
Joe had an early vision of what fatbikes could be in the Methow and he has taken a lot of risk and put a shit ton of effort into developing a rideable trail network, and stocking Methow Cycle and Sport with fat bikes and accessories. It takes big stones to do this and I hope it is beginning to pay off for him and develop some legit momentum and revenue. His decision to bring my Blackborow in ended up paying off, and it never would have happened without this gathering, which he has embraced and supports in a pretty major way. He sponsored a Saturday night hang at the shop, with food and beer and the works, which was rad. I have never felt better about supporting a shop. Joe walks the walk.
|That's the rental fleet, in the foreground. I counted nine bikes and I think there were additional bikes that were rented out.|
|Joe's personal light-ass rigid Borealis hanging from the rafters here.|
The Blackborow itself is amazing. I'll have more to say about it as we do more giddy-upping, but it's super versatile (which is what attracted me to it in the first place), and what surprised the hell outta me on my first ride is how playful it is, given what it is, with the massive amount of rotating mass and all. It's gonna be a very purpose specific bike, but for those specific purposes, I just cannot wait for the adventures that lie ahead.
And all kidding aside about the friend thing, I am really blessed to have a great group of bike friends, composed of guys like Dave. It's killer that he sent me that text and it's even more killer that I got to share the experience of getting my hands on the bike in the presence of Dave and his posse that wandered into the shop. That will always be a really special memory. Thanks, Dave.