krieg
Husqvarna
Pro Class
You know that line. It's pretty thin. The line between: "Pfffft! I can do that", and "Holy $hit did I F up!".
Had the TC out for maiden voyage #2 this morning. Nice brisk 40+ degree weather. Had the Under Armor cold gear on. Just re-jetted the pilot to a 40 and put a flex jet fuel screw in... just dyin' to try things out. All is wonderful with the world! One kick! What could be better?
I decide that my mission this morning was to find an abandon coal mine that I hadn't seen in 32 years. Its on a desolate section of the mountain that I haven't ridden since I was 16. No worries, I have the TC! I can carry it on my back if things get bad... right?
I was surprised at how good my memory served me after 30+ years. The trails and rail beds looked familiar up to a point. Then I encounter a switchback trail that leads from one rail bed to another. I remember it being the way to the mine. I start down the trail and I'm greeted almost immediately with ruts and boulders the likes of which I haven't seen since my invincible teens. No worries! I'm on the TC! I'm invincible!
After about 100 yards of virtual "trials bike" territory, I'm on the familiar rail bed to the mine. The TC and I did remarkably well on the horrible terrain. I was proud of us. My instincts are keen at this point. Even though it's been 32 years, 3 miles later... I'm standing in front of a childhood memory. I stood in this very place 32 years ago. I got there on my 1972 Suzuki 90 Honcho. Back then however, the terrain was much more forgiving.
Now to the stupid part.
I'm proud of myself for finding this place on my own. I mount the TC and get her fired in two kicks and head back home. But all too soon I encounter the boulder-strewn switchback... only this time I'm heading up an incline that appears twice as steep as when I was going down. The ruts are deeper and the rocks are bigger. Halfway up I'm fighting to keep the TC from launching me into broken bones or worse... gasp... a scratch on the new bike! Fighting the clutch, bouncing around like I'm on a pogo stick, legs flailing around to keep from falling.... poof! Fame out! $hit!
My only alternative at this point was to get her fired and push. Riding was out of the question as the terrain was almost too steep and rocky to even mount the bike to get it started. Somehow I managed to get it started. Somehow I managed to push and clutch and rev and push and clutch and push and rev... about 50 yards... by myself...on the verge of a heart attack. I finally get it to level ground. I kill the engine, prop her against a tree, thank God, and rest for 20 minutes just to get my heart rate under 170.
NEVER again. The line between confident and stupid is mighty thin. But I'll be able to see it from now on like it's 100 miles wide!
Had the TC out for maiden voyage #2 this morning. Nice brisk 40+ degree weather. Had the Under Armor cold gear on. Just re-jetted the pilot to a 40 and put a flex jet fuel screw in... just dyin' to try things out. All is wonderful with the world! One kick! What could be better?
I decide that my mission this morning was to find an abandon coal mine that I hadn't seen in 32 years. Its on a desolate section of the mountain that I haven't ridden since I was 16. No worries, I have the TC! I can carry it on my back if things get bad... right?
I was surprised at how good my memory served me after 30+ years. The trails and rail beds looked familiar up to a point. Then I encounter a switchback trail that leads from one rail bed to another. I remember it being the way to the mine. I start down the trail and I'm greeted almost immediately with ruts and boulders the likes of which I haven't seen since my invincible teens. No worries! I'm on the TC! I'm invincible!
After about 100 yards of virtual "trials bike" territory, I'm on the familiar rail bed to the mine. The TC and I did remarkably well on the horrible terrain. I was proud of us. My instincts are keen at this point. Even though it's been 32 years, 3 miles later... I'm standing in front of a childhood memory. I stood in this very place 32 years ago. I got there on my 1972 Suzuki 90 Honcho. Back then however, the terrain was much more forgiving.


Now to the stupid part.
I'm proud of myself for finding this place on my own. I mount the TC and get her fired in two kicks and head back home. But all too soon I encounter the boulder-strewn switchback... only this time I'm heading up an incline that appears twice as steep as when I was going down. The ruts are deeper and the rocks are bigger. Halfway up I'm fighting to keep the TC from launching me into broken bones or worse... gasp... a scratch on the new bike! Fighting the clutch, bouncing around like I'm on a pogo stick, legs flailing around to keep from falling.... poof! Fame out! $hit!
My only alternative at this point was to get her fired and push. Riding was out of the question as the terrain was almost too steep and rocky to even mount the bike to get it started. Somehow I managed to get it started. Somehow I managed to push and clutch and rev and push and clutch and push and rev... about 50 yards... by myself...on the verge of a heart attack. I finally get it to level ground. I kill the engine, prop her against a tree, thank God, and rest for 20 minutes just to get my heart rate under 170.
NEVER again. The line between confident and stupid is mighty thin. But I'll be able to see it from now on like it's 100 miles wide!
