November, 2004
 
   Just the fact that you are reading this means the chaotic process of launching a web site from the ground up is finally behind us (just in time to start working on January's update).  I would like to start by welcoming everyone to Mountain Bike Tales, which hopefully will develop into a legitimate online community of riders rather than simply just another site devoted to this great sport of ours.  We've been in tune to the demand for more than a glossy $4.99 advertisement, a common complaint among enthusiasts about the magazines and press currently filling newsstands.  It is our intention to offer riders of all divisions, of all skill levels, and of all areas a place to call home, or in this case perhaps a place to call "homepage".  Since embarking on this project, we have not only received wonderful support from many dedicated riders and writers, but have already witnessed the early stages of the formation of an online community- This is especially amazing considering as I write this, we have yet to launch and make our official presence known.  I would just like to thank all of our contributors, writers, and photographers and the manufacturers who have been supporting this project from the get-go. Oh and a special thanks to the web master for all of his work and dedication (Mr. Greenhorn as his column confesses), its good to be back in action.  To anyone reading this column, we welcome your opinion as well.  This site wouldn't be possible without support from the online community of mountain bikers.  As our mission statement proves, we are a website for riders from riders.  Now that I've cleared the clutter on who we are and what we are, allow me to ramble aimlessly as my monthly column is intended, with the holidays fast approaching I figure it fitting to tell a tale about a holiday that proved very ride-able this year, and didn't even require a snow-suit! Enjoy.

I'm pretty sure it's safe to assume that Columbus Day doesn't often appear on the tops of many major Holiday lists.  After-all, a simple word association with the term "holiday" usually reveals factors such as long lines at department stores, consumption of too much turkey and stuffing, heart shaped candies, romantic cards, football games on television, and certainly consumption of too much- oh wait we covered that one already.  However, this year was different.  New York has a bit of a reputation for long, drawn out winter months, in fact it seems that the very mention of the word Buffalo seems to remind most out-of-staters of blizzard-like conditions (well that and chicken wings).  So it was only natural to plan a ride of epic proportions when Columbus Day brought with it not only a day off of work, but sixty degree weather to enjoy the beautiful colors of Fall.
 
   What was intended to be an early morning jump slowly transgressed into an early afternoon departure.  Having already packed most of the essential riding gear away for the winter, it was an exercise in trying to remember where everything had been packed away, tucked under, and set aside.  This coupled with the fact that all three of our mounts seemed to be resting on flat tires equaled a rushing effort at a snail's pace.  Eventually the truck was loaded, the food supply packed in backpacks, and compressed air forced through valve stems.  Even the sun popped its head through the cover of clouds as we departed, Columbus Day was already inching its way towards the top of the list.
 
   For reasons unknown (and a complete lack of available information on the medical field) I suffer from a most rare of bicycling conditions- Wronghardwareosis.  Symptoms include the attraction to and purchase of components that rarely coincide with the type of riding the sufferer intends to do.  In my case it is cross country and trail equipment that finds its way to my frames despite the fact that a majority of my riding consists of singletrack, down hill, and jumping antics.  Somewhere deep within my subconscious I must be fearful to give up the supple three inches of suspension travel that I'm accustomed to in favor of nine inches of "stiff as a plank" boinkers.  Either that or its a financial thing (lack-there-of most likely).   Regardless, like all great rides, we would begin by hitting the trails, at least my equipment should, theoretically, be most at home there.
 
   As it turns out, my equipment is indeed quite capable and comfortable on the twisty uphill assent of the dirt roads we begin on.  It is my out of shape muscles that are better suited for a different form of riding (namely riding on the bus).  Every twist is a battle with the forces of nature and the road seems to wind endlessly skyward.  I conclude that if mountain bikes were around in his day, Sir Isaac Newton would not have needed an apple to fall on his head to begin pondering the effects of gravity.  Like all hard-core mountain bike specialists, I'm already secretly planning the ride back down the mountain side.  Yes downhill is certainly my specialty indeed.
 
   The group and I decide to throw in the towel a mere mile and a half from our ultimate destination (the top of the hill). Meaning we traveled nearly half a mile already!  The ride back down was a spectacular blurring of tan hard pack against a beautiful backdrop of orange and yellow forest.  The speed and rush of the cool afternoon air was inspirational and sparked thoughts of another division of the mountain biking spectrum: A more rebellious approach to defying gravity.
 
   It wasn't long before the planks came out and the ramps were erected.  We secured a most appropriate section of downhill trail with a natural rain wash-out that served as an excellent landing zone.  I came up a few feet short on my first couple of attempts, allowing contact with the ground to gobble up my softly sprung trail components.  Before long I had the timing down perfect, the first of the group I must add.  The landing was as soft as the songs of the birds in the trees and my fatigue is lost to a haze of blissful jumping amnesia.  Yes, going airborne is certainly my specialty indeed.
 
    It is the setting of the sun that forces us to pack up and head back toward civilization.  As the holiday winds itself down, some new word associations begin to form: "Flawless trail conditions", "perfect timing", "beautiful colors", and "a ride of epic proportion".  Of course consumption of too much dinner did still apply here, but hey we earned it!

JayMoney@peoplepc.com