Maybe it's just me but it seems like every other time I ride at Buffalo Mtn, some weird and/or potentially life threatening event happens. A broken hand, multiple contusions and one meat puppet that bled forever, a busted rim, car broken into and stuff stolen are all things that have happened to me there within the last three years. Last week I got gang-banged by a angry throng of yellow jackets and last night, I was JRA and destroyed a tire (ok it was more than just riding along, I was just riding along into a jagged rock garden on semi-slicks that had no business in jagged rocks). I knew that I messed up when I felt that ball-peen hammer against metal like solid feeling and my tire went immediately flat with Stan's shit all over the outside. On top of that, my unwritten policy of riding without anything to bail my sorry ass out of a pinch, stuff like a tube, a pump, a magic 8 ball.... It was only a matter of time before it bit me.
Bob and Wes didn't know I had a problem for a few minutes so I walked along (oh yeah, I was about as far away from where I parked as possible and I only had about an hour of daylight left and five miles to reach my truck) contemplating my near future. Bob and Wes came back and we began to pump my tire while air leaked all over the place. I pumped awhile, Bob pumped awhile and after alot of pumping and swishing the remaining sealant around in my tire, it sealed! Yay!
I rode off the mountain being careful to not hit anything hard since I had no time to waste with darkness approaching somewhat quickly.
Maybe the next time I ride at Buffalo I will kill a couple of goats and pour their blood all over the trailhead. Maybe that will work.
Only 56 more hours until ORAMM 2008.