After doing minor repairs on my bike and watching my son fix his own flat, my boys and I were off for a non-competitive ride through a park, I had stumbled on a few days ago. Finding new trails, like finding perfectly paved tarmac is blissful.
The ride turned more into bushwhacking. The trails were mostly overgrown. The deer family we came across didn’t complain. I always think it’s the coolest thing to run into a family of deer doing deer type stuff, when I’m with my son’s doing human type stuff. I try to keep the boys on the game trails and river beds. Don’t screw with the habitat!
We found a water crossing that was only about 15ft wide and didn’t appear to be that deep. My eldest son scoped out the depth of the water. I stupidly dropped in off the ridge and started charging without having surveyed it first. Bad move. I hit a rock that was embedded in the murk going 15mph. I flipped over my handlebars and went face/chest first into the swamp. I like mud. I don’t like swamp. Swamp don’t like me. When I surface, I hear my son’s cracking up. I smell and look like shit. My other son picked a line that didn’t involve a boulder and crossed successfully. My youngest stayed wisely on the other side of the bank. I’m getting old, but not too old to to throw caution into the wind and have that wind gut punch me. Every once in awhile you get tossed. That’s life, but after you wipe off the stench and remount your trusty steed, you get back on trail and get back up to speed. These rides are darned fun, but in that fun I’m dropping little lessons that I hope will pay dividends for my son’s come the day they get tossed. Daughter doesn’t ride, so she gets the lecture series.