It's stereotyping is what it is.
See, at some point or another, if you ride your bike enough, you end up having to replace the rubber bits that go round and round on the outside of your wheels. And I think it's a sad indicator of the preconceptions of some bike shop proprietors that a man of my age and, cough, dimensions, fronts up for some new tyres and the default response is - 'That'll be for cross country right?'
Nice and safe that cross country riding. Maybe you'd like some extra gears so you can your fat arse up those nasty hills.
I'm being too harsh.
As scenic as the views frequently are, I have found that there is a limit to how many times I can ride up and down the local fire trails without it becoming a whole bucket load of boring. The whole reason I went for a mountain bike (as opposed to a road bike) was that long hours in the saddle grinding out the kilometres was not particularly attractive to me. Apart from anything else my arse just won't tolerate more than about 30kms before expressing it's displeasure in very colorful language indeed.
Which is why I've started throwing the bike in the back of the car and driving down to Ourimbah where some very nice people have spent what must have been a shit load of time and money building trails specifically to make things more interesting.
And why I've started digging these...
See, at some point or another, if you ride your bike enough, you end up having to replace the rubber bits that go round and round on the outside of your wheels. And I think it's a sad indicator of the preconceptions of some bike shop proprietors that a man of my age and, cough, dimensions, fronts up for some new tyres and the default response is - 'That'll be for cross country right?'
Nice and safe that cross country riding. Maybe you'd like some extra gears so you can your fat arse up those nasty hills.
I'm being too harsh.
As scenic as the views frequently are, I have found that there is a limit to how many times I can ride up and down the local fire trails without it becoming a whole bucket load of boring. The whole reason I went for a mountain bike (as opposed to a road bike) was that long hours in the saddle grinding out the kilometres was not particularly attractive to me. Apart from anything else my arse just won't tolerate more than about 30kms before expressing it's displeasure in very colorful language indeed.
Which is why I've started throwing the bike in the back of the car and driving down to Ourimbah where some very nice people have spent what must have been a shit load of time and money building trails specifically to make things more interesting.
And why I've started digging these...
....up behind the chook sheds.
I figure if I twist and turn enough there's enough room up here to build a track for at least a couple of hundred metres. More, if I decide to get stupid and run it down to the main driveway. More still if it goes down to the dam and up the other side.
As a bonus - I'll save a lot on petrol when compared to the 60 km trip to Ourimbah and digging up dirt provides for a shockingly effective cardio session. Hell of a lot easier getting it all to hang together since the rain we got a few weeks ago made the dirt a bit more pliable as well.
Might hold off on throwing in too many jumps just yet. It's still a long way to the nearest hospital.
