The Bikin' Fools




Lost - Linz safetey II.BMP (2763510 bytes)

Eric, Sebastion, Linz, and shawn (driving) head for glory


August '02 moonride

It was the August outing for the Bikin’ Fools. Dr. J. had wanted to connect a small, missing piece of the growing trail of bike events. These rides have covered territory from near Napa to Cloverdale in a nearly unbroken line across 60 miles of mountainous terrain. The only part of the countryside not ridden was a small section from Los Posadas to Lake Hennessey. This ride could also accommodate a water crossing, for those interested.

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cal mart scene with scott before ride

Sebastion made the six hundred-mile drive to be part of the event. A total of eleven people would wander in the woods on this fateful evening. Only at the very end of the ride did the participants have a clue as to their whereabouts. Auriah and Austin represented the youthful contingency, the rookie for the evening was Mark, who may still be pondering the whole concept. Lindsey would provide classic, gold plated L-Factor, the likes that haven’t been seen since the last ride. Shawn was there to provide pivotal confusion with numerous map readings. Sean Large bolted from his new responsibility as a dad to partake of the madness. Jim Korte became agitated and goofy before the event left the pre-ride barbecue. Michel returned from France to add some international flavor to the excursion. Eric rounded out the field, mumbling early on about not being in the mood for a water experience.

The ride offered one of the most challenging car shuffles since the beginning of the moonrides. Although it was relatively close to home, the number of people plus a double shuffle times the non-swim contingent added up to mass confusion. Finally Dr. J. simply started driving. Lindsey and Eric would leave their cars at the spillway, Shawn picked them up and all eventually convened at Los Posadas. In the darkness, great adventure began to roll. It only took mile for the troops to question the route. This questioning would last all night. Most of the eleven proceeded as a blob of biking confusion. Somehow the wad of bikers stayed together for the first hour. It was only upon discovering the 4H camp that things began to unravel. One part of the group descended down the road that all were standing upon, another group decided to go through the camp and see if another road existed on the other side. This seemingly stupid idea bore fruit; slightly over-ripened fruit.

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swimming pool in the middle of nowhere

The two sections of riders eventually reconnected and the decision to proceed on the only route not-yet-taken was made, much to Auriah’s demise. While riding on a very smooth, rut and rock free surface, the road led past a tree that cast a shadow on the nearly invisible cable that lurked just at tire height. Auriah, in the lead, suddenly found himself doing a poor imitation of the Superman thing. While his bike remained with the cable, Auriah, losing altitude rapidly, attempted a shoulder roll only to do a bad lawn dart imitation. The resulting "THWACK" and involuntary "ARRHHHGG!!!" sent a signal that not had all gone well on this stretch of country road. Auriah would spent the rest of the evening in "single wing" mode, his right arm being in a state of mutiny

After yet another map consultation, the consensus was that a road had to be taken over the five peaks. At one particular intersection the discussion was intense. Lindsey muttered something about "This is the right way, trust me..." He proceeded to march up the hill with no logic available to support his direction. The road went steeply uphill. It began to deteriorate badly. Small bushes appeared on the road, then larger bushes. Soon the trail had vanished altogether. Now the eleven Lunatistas struggled for each foot of progress. Each step required a fight with the bushes. Progress diminished to near zero as some harbored thoughts that Linz had gone completely Loony Tunes and the operation was doomed to be lost in the woods until morning. Just when despair began to loom as the dominate sense of the situation, the trail miraculously turned into a bikin’ freeway. A bulldozer had been there in the recent past. Now a complete change of mindset occurred as the bikers could actually ride the bikes again

Lost - Shawn-Bullet group.BMP (2747190 bytes).

shawn fondles bullit after boony thrash

The trail led downhill and the road improved. It seemed only a matter of time before some sense could be made of the situation. Eventually the road led to a house. However, rather than taking the driveway, one part of the bikin’ blob proceeded past the house on a secondary passage. The others could only follow. Although this road seemed to go in a proper direction, it began a descent that was frightening. It was frightening because one would not want to have to climb back up this plunge into the woods. It was also frightening because it began to deteriorate. Sure enough, at a very remote and lonely stream, the road died altogether. The Bikin’ Fools could only stare at each other with the same thought; "Duh!"

After some research on foot, Eric discovered another road. The mass of bikers in ameba-like fashion oozed onto the new route. It went nicely for about fifty yards then came to a deep, very hard to pass washout. While ten of the eleven struggled to navigate this significant obstacle, Auriah explored a seam in the bushes and within ten seconds was standing on the far side of the ditch. The others who hadn’t committed to the obstacle joined Auriah on the other side. Soon the mass of bikers passed what seemed like a significant development in the big scheme of things: A washing machine. The road continued as a marginal ride, but soon fresh quad tracks appeared. Now it seemed that the bikers were onto something.

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waiting for the gorge crossing

The first gate indicated the proximity to civilization. The second gate came with a barking dog. This would have been a smooth transition, but somehow three of the group failed to show up for the headcount. Now eight bikers would have to wait for nearly a half-hour while Mark fixed his flat. The dog was beside himself. He knew something big was brewing on his territory. Would the owners awaken to his frenzied barking?

Finally the tire was fixed and the three stragglers joined the rest and proceeded past the house. The dog seemed to think that his barking would be more effective from behind the house, considering the vast numbers of strangers who had showed up within his lines of responsibility. Shortly past the house, Lower Chiles Valley road presented itself to end the night of confusion. Now it was merely a matter of pedaling the two miles to the parked cars. More confusion reigned as the bikers tried to figure out how to get home. Somehow it all worked out and the Bikin’ Fools managed to get back to town before three o’clock a.m.

Dr. J. successfully conspired to take the moonlight marauders on a magical mission. The L-Factor was working overtime to prove that sanity is over rated. The water crossing was deferred since the riders came out of the boonies in the wrong place. There was not much that would have made sense about the whole evening, yet from the fuzzy logic another superb adventure unfolded under the lumens of the Lady of the Night.

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Images of the chosen few in the gracious rays of La Luna