Disclaimer: Don't blame me if you choose to waste your valuable time reading this drivel.
Logged 3.9 miles on trails behind my house in Princeton. #86 and my next door neigbor on a clapped out Kawasaki utility 4 wheeler with almost no suspension, broken fenders, a hunting rack and trouble shifting.
The 4-wheeler led the way out of his driveway onto the trail head. Trail conditions seemed dry and conducive to roosting 4-wheelers. After 100 yards, I tired of watching his under suspended rear wheels bounce side to side off the smallest of bumps. I put the hammer down and showed him who is who, what is what, and where his mama buys her hair curlers. After waiting a couple minutes at the next trail split, he came bouncing happily up the trail, gave me the big thumbs up and took over the lead. We entered some over-grown snomobile trails that took some hunting at each corner to figure out which way the trail actually went. I had to turn down my idle so my bike was happier chugging along behind him at a snails pace. I stalled the big 4-stroke several times, but franticly following the start-up procedure managed to keep the lumbering orange 4-wheeler within a 5 yard distance. After 2 miles of bad trails, they dead ended and we turn around to start the big 2 mile adventure back home. I took the lead and showed the open face helmeted rider just how quickly a Kenda can dissappear. At the next trail split, he again gave the the big thumbs up from behind his variety store sun-glasses and took the lead. He decided to really push the pace. The wallowing rear end of the utility machine was frantically wantering side to side as the 12 horse power were desperately put to the ground. A few times, the rear wheels kicked straight skyward and I feared an endo was eminent.
So, on the last 1/2 mile of the epic adventure, would I leave his dignity in tack and let him lead us back into his yard, to the glorious cheers of his children? Well, my two wheelin brothers, what would you have done? Taking the honor of all my motorcycle riding brethren squarely on my shoulders, I stalked patiently and waited for my opportunity to pounce. An eight inch tree lay across most of the trail. He slowed to go around the obstruction. My moment had arrived. My twisting right hand sent a shower of gravel cascading behind me. I wheelied into the log and used it as a ramp to send the roaring beast skyward. Achieving a maximum altitude of 18 inches, I flew past the the 4-wheeler. His shock and amazement were apparent in his yelp of surprize, and his emergency evasive manuver, as the red blur startled him into an unnecessary counter-steer.
At the ride concluding conversation, he complimented me, stating "You can really ride that thing." But he also cautioned, "You better take it easy. You don't want to get hurt."
Rest assured my friends, the honor of motorcyclists were upheld on this fine day.
