This time of year the need to ride becomes the most acute.
Spring is intermittently in the air, and while roads are slowly cleared of salt and sand the roadies and motorcycle guys start to appear with increasing frequency. Those of us who ride off-road have a longer wait still.
Friends from down country post pictures of their muddy bikes on roof racks, or grin at us in stupid trailside selfies. Those same people that will soon be driving hours to ride in our backyard have the drop on us, and for a few weeks that’s really a kick in the nuts.
To join them would mean a long car ride to ride mostly mediocre trails with marginal fitness.
Often I casually ask how the trails are “down there”, and really the “there” doesn’t fucking matter. Could be New Hampshire, Mass, or even my usual early season refuge of Pine Hill Park in Rutland. But the truth is that any moderately responsible trail user needs to hold off for a while longer for things to really dry out. It’s been cold and snowy everywhere, and unless you own a helicopter a daytrip to ride dry hardpack isn’t feasible.
For a few more weeks we wait. Begrudgingly.
Until then it’s still drinking season.
