A buzz was palpable as we assembled in the Knott Lott. A new bylaw had been proposed and votes were being cast: if a rider is absent for more than thirteen weeks, then they must re-qualify and are subject to re-taco handling. As of this writing a decisive majority has not been determined.
Stirring things up a bit more, Larz drove in, already spandexed and helmeted, and unloaded his crosser.
Our dear ride leader, in no way compromised the route to suit his skinnier tires. He dexterously hammered through technical portions, and submitted to being passed when fat tires excelled. Needless to say, B frequently snuck to the front to drive a harder pace.
Our outing led me to realize why it took me so long to learn the trails. A classic LOtB route, we started up the qualifier, but cut over to something else, were back on the qualifier, rode through the boy scout camp, then went up 1A and across the Rock Garden and I stopped paying attention to where we were until, some time later, we were dropping, CW, from the top of Fleming. Bambi was behind me riding by braille because he was too lazy to connect his light. We plunged Palin, and aimed for the Knott. Past both dams, I saw a rider drop the earliest trail from the road towards the lake. Wanting to swim, but steer clear of the "day use area" I followed. Before I even knew who I was following, he pitched off his bike into a roll, tumbled down the hillside and thudded off a four foot drop. Fortunately, he landed on his feet, unscathed, and I watched B climb back onto the trail.
At the Knott Hole we were greeted by none other than the Spoke Godfather. He was happy to see that we had had another good night of pounding on our bicycles, guaranteeing him steady employment.
The tacos were quality.