So mid-ride tonight, around 6:30pm or so, darkness prevailed. At least in the sense that I was pre-riding the trail without any lighting and suddenly I couldn't see a thing. And so much like the scene in the epic Jean-Claude Van Damme (JCVD) movie, Bloodsport, where he is suddenly blinded during his final Kumete by his opponents nefarious chalk powder maneuver, I was placed in an almost identical situation where I was forced to focus inwards and amplify my non-visual senses in order to finish the ride and make it back to the RV in time for beer. And make it back I did, indeed. When you're riding fast desert trail blind, you tend to think that while although you might at any second severely endo upon hitting a rock whilst front-weighted; you also gain a sense of confidence such that because you are unable to see the undulations of the trail before you, you tell yourself to proverbially "fuck it" and hope to hell you're picking the right line.
And speaking of the RV and beer, what a brilliant move it was to eschew individuality in favor of our driving in the aggregate. I almost feel like I might spend some time trying to articulate the range of emotions I went through during my time in the RV (mostly ranging from sober to not), and compose them into their own blog entry (surely of the highest journalistic caliber), rather than just nonchalantly mention our road-rules-esque journey as if almost an afterthought. And most likely I'll do this, in a sort of "On the Road" esque literary memoir. Yes, yes indeed. I will do this shortly, in a day or tow, once I am less inclined to drink beers and watch movies with my team-mates.
Godspeed to us.
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