The Bikin' Fools





                               Rained-Out Rollers

by Sean Large


"So, dinner at the Church of the Holy Spoke?", asked Large.

"Uhhhh… you have been misinformed. The ride for the evening shall be….Knights Valley downhill.", Shawn announced with confidence.

" OK dude – six o clock at the shop."

Jim and Shawn were already debating various routes as the group began to trickle in. The route seemed to change every time a new rider came through the door. The motivating energy of La Luna needed for this evening’s ride was having a tough time piercing the heavy cloud cover. Somebody suggested a route through the creek behind the police station and to the Inn. Was an evening of urban assault in order?

" I have a bunch of tarps and fire starter. We can find some downed trees, bungee the tarps, and have a blazing fire for dinner.", asserted Jim.

" Hey, I did that one time in Bothe…", added Shawn.

By the time a plan was agreed upon the rain on the metal roof of the shop had grown from a nearly audible patter to a steady, all too familiar drumming.

Six Lunatistas; Shawn, Jim, Lindsey, Michelle, S.S. Matt, and Sean made final preparations to depart the warmth and security of the shop.

"It’s only the rollers.", someone stated matter of factly.

"Ah yes, only the rollers.", said Michelle. He didn’t sound convinced.

The riders mounted their bikes and proceeded through town toward the trail head. A small group of spa goers eyed the bikers with bewilderment. Or was it suspicion? Why would anybody elect to ride in these conditions? What were they doing?

"I hope they don’t report us.", quipped Michelle. "After all we are in a heightened state of alert."

Code Orange: High possibility of a terrorist attack. Our mission could be doomed. Would the fools be intercepted and interrogated before reaching the trail head? Exactly fifty feet into the trail Shawn was wishing he had been detained.

A slip of the tire into a rut, a twist of the knee, and Shawn was off to the Inn. Lindsey would follow for moral support.

Four riders continued up the rutted road into the darkness. The tapping of rain in the trees became their mantra, keeping pace with the pedals but for fleeting moments. The turn off for the hot tub came quickly.

"OK fellas, I’m out." Stated Jim.

"What happened?", we asked.

"You ever get that feeling like you’re starting to get sick? Well, I’m getting that feeling. I’m outta here."

"The Bikin Fools have left us the torch.", said Michelle with vigor.

"We must continue."

Then there were three. The riders pressed on without much incident. Large managed to high side into his favorite toxic oil – laden flora of choice while the others expressed concern with the performance of their brakes. All the while could be heard someone singing to the tune of a famous Roy Orbison song: Only the rollers….. dum dum dum dum dee doo whaa…….

A very short while later the group reconvened at the shop for a briefing.

"You guys made it!"

"Yup, and it didn’t even rain that much."

Beers were opened and electrolyte replacement therapies ensued. Megan graciously provided home made cookies which were quickly consumed by the cold, wet fools. Large pushed for a BBQ so he could share some hot, satisfying Devils on Horseback. There were no takers. Maybe next time. It would be an early evening for sure.

Though this evening’s event seemingly had forces working against it the Bikin Fools managed to overcome mediocrity and connect with the Lady of the Night. Even if it was only the rollers.