I've hit the breaking point.
This past weekend I rolled my El Santo and El Mariachi into our offices for folks to take a gander at during Frostbike.
Maybe it was just touching them again after leaving them hanging on hooks since October?
Maybe it was seeing the dirt encrusted frames?
Maybe it was...heck, I don't know what it was. I like snow riding as much as the next guy but I miss the dirt. I miss the singletrack, the grass and leaves, the roots and rocks, and the mud. I miss the camping, the laughter, the bugs, and tiki torches.
Then to make matters worse, Shuji visits us from Japan and brings us a bunch of photos from last year's Sol Sessions experience.
How can I look at an image like this and not dream of dirt?
Dreaming in Minnesota,
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I love being outside. I prefer to ride on dirt. Or snow. If I was born a hundred years earlier I might have been a polar explorer. There's a great natural world out there to see, smell, taste, listen to, and experience. Life slows down out there and the distractions we've created will disappear if you let them. Give me a backpack and let me go.