A grip of my friends hit me up the other day to join them on a group mountain bike ride. I, of course, accepted. They said they would meet me at my pad in 30 minutes, so I headed out to the garage to ready my steed for the day’s adventure. A tam dirt loop was the plan, Rock Springs descent on the docket; my favorite fire road of all time. Now my mountain bike is a couple of years old. And while I do not abuse my equipment, I do certainly use it. And my mountain bike is a prime example.
I wiped down my chain and noticed that it was worn beyond healthy, decided it could handle one more ride. And upon inspecting my chainrings, I noticed a few teeth that were chipped or in one case even missing, decided it could handle one more ride. I pumped up my fork to the appropriate level, happy there was nothing wrong there. My rear shock … the same. I filled my water bottle and kitted up.
We hit the climb up Eldridge Grade and my finely tuned and kept equipment saw my chain wanting to jump into my spokes. Nice. Seriously time to tune that rig up. I dropped it down the cog one and settled in without any further hassle.
It was a gorgeous day, the sun was high and hot and gazed upon the four of us like some all knowing orb, envious of the ground we had covered and admiring the ground we were about to feast upon. There was a breath of wind, just enough to cool the beaded sweat, keep the horse flies at bay. Before we knew it we were at East Peak.
The views here were/are astounding and we sucked them in along with some much deserved and needed water before making our way west along the ridge to the fire road descent of all descents. Ahhhh, yes. Down we go, popping of water bars, sliding around gravely turns, catching bugs in our teeth. At the intersection of Rocky Ridge I grabbed my water bottle to suck down some more H2O and got a huge mouthful of oil. Crud! I looked down at my rear shock and oil was everywhere. Blown and blown. Dang! Well, needless to say the rest of the ride home was less than stellar, as the rear of my rig was sagging and slow – sort of like me. And if anything is to be gleaned from this story, it is take care of your stuff, because if you don’t it won’t take care of you.