Don't worry about it wolfers, you guys were only a hop, skip and a 45 minute drive away. But I have to say I was kinda dissapointed becaus I really need to stay down there with you guys. This year I didn't get any free bee, muds balls or henrys.
^^Mud, it's too bad you didn't get sweetass footage of Skidmark kicking the everliving shit out of my ass during my carving attempts. I took things out pretty far away from the cameras to avoid getting launched by the previous day's tracks. I still have a bruise on my ass (literally) from that sled.
I edited the day 2 adventure shit on page three, too.
Last edited by DirtylilWolfess : 02-16-2011 at 10:23 PM.
^^I got that big mofo back on it's feet. It maybe took a minute or two (and I'm nearly due for surgery in a month or so thanks to a sweet dislocation), but I got it up AND started it all by my tiny self.
I am stoked that you caught that last launch sequence of me on Skidmark. That's funny shit!
Fagsex, NJD, Danger, and Jay want to trailer up north. I don't and neither do some others.
Based on our trailering situation, I wasn't stoked at all to deal with loading and unloading, and was more than content to rage around the Rockland/Mass area. I mean, shit, there was still shitloads of snow that no one had even looked at yet. That sounded way the hell better than actually caravaning four vehicles into non-googlemapped territory. I was still sick of driving from the long rage over from my very flat living place in the Red River Valley of the North.
I ride down early and eat some biscuits and gravy. Keith sends me a text not to leave him. M8Stealth was there or showed up after I got there?
IBS gave a call and let us know that he and Keith were sticking around for the day too. Mud whipped out the biscuits and gravy. I was looking forward to this meal for a good 11.9 months. It didn't disappoint in the least! Thanks again Mud; that shit is awesome. Harry announced that he was going to claim dibbs on all the leftovers. Dammit, I should've thought of doing that.
As I was recovering from breakfast coma, a shinyassed AC trailer pulled in, and from my place on the couch watching shitty TV, I heard some dudes waltz in like they owned the place. I was still breakfast coma'd enough that I didn't put 1 and 1 together. I figured they were just some dudes passing through that knew Mud. One of them ventured the living room, and introduced himself as Rick. He played some sweet vinyl for us, and made comments about Harry and myself being young. At that point, I inadvertently lied by saying I had never played any sort of vinyl before. I remembered (about the time he left) listening to the Jungle Book and my Grandpa explaining that the words were coming out of "this here frisbee looking thing."
Finally, they raged off, and we began readying the troops for the day's ride. Powersledder showed up in his mighty Dakota, sporting an 04 or 05 RMK 550; his victim for the day. I went in and had the bar chick turn on the fuel at Henry's, only to come out and see that Gerbil was stealing my fuel filling privileges that I had worked so hard to get. Furry bastard.
We were hoping for a smaller group. Lost 4 gained 3 so we rode with 10.
Rick takes us to some pretty sick places - places that a 121 Indy 500 shouldn't be.
Upon my return, I noted the presence of a M1ooose, and M8stealth's ride in the Peppermill yard. Then I put two and two together, and realized those dudes were the AC visitors who dropped in earlier. With that, M8Rick took point, and we raged off to find some sweet areas.
The Wolfsled was an entirely different beast to ride. Steering on the trails was a lot more work. My ass was 3" higher in the air, and riding ergonomics had changed enough that my non-riser mods weren't quite enough. One or two inches of riser should help out there at some point. Luckily, we weren't being slave driven by any trail pros like Madcow or Riley, and there was enough time for me to catch up at each corner or road crossing without causing any huge delays.
M8Rick took us further and further, going down some logging roads and up some logging roads, in general just raging around towards what I was thinking would be the Oak Bluffly direction. Then we came to a gentle downslope that suddenly dropped off at a steeper angle. The Wolfsled and I began a careful descent.
"Well, this doesn't look too ba--ohhh fuck."
The ride down was really squirrely, even with studs. My braaper was also a lot more responsive and dependent on weight input, which was hard to provide since my sphinctometer was rapidly passing the 10 mark on a scale of 1-10. You couldn't have slid a greased needle up my ass.Upon safe de-summit, I glanced over my shoulder and realized that I was prettymuch fucked up the ass if this turned out to be a wrong turn. Things were looking really sloppy and more and more chewed up with each sled that came down it.
Once most all of the crew had made it down without issue, we started breaking trail, and meandering through the trees. Glancing around, I realized that we were prettymuch in a little valley that led to nowhere. A moment later, this was confirmed by M8stealth looping back towards the rest of the group. "Yep, I'm fucked." I'm pretty sure Mud was reading my mind, because he took one look at my face, then glanced back at the hill, and started laughing.
We took a collective break, and I got coached on how to make it back out of the tree-filled bowl that M8 decided to have us check out. At that point, I gave up all worries and realized at worst, there were enough big dudes to just up and carry my little sled out of that hole if need be. There were probably even enough tools among the group to take it down into more manageable pieces and put it back together at the top of the hill. While that would suck, I had full confidence that the Nutz would be cool enough to take on that endeavor.
Finally, it was go time. I was second or third to try the hill back up, and I raged at it with what I felt was pretty good speed, and then held it damnear pinned once I was around the little curve towards the bottom. I lost momentum and stucked it just over halfway up. Rubi showed up, and we turned things around so I could ride down and try again.
Try two only went a little better, but I only highmarked myself by a foot or so. Harry helped me around, and I made one more attempt with no success. By then, we were sitting with Mud, Harry, Cuzzi and myself at the bottom of the hill. M8Stealth had disappeared. Bill raged all over with his rental unit, and conquered the slope.
Cuzzi had an answer for my unspoken "what now dudes?" before I even posed the question out loud. He hopped on the mighty little Wolfsled, and after one or two little braaps to get it turned around, he held the throttle balls out, and inched my sled up that wicked hill, and out of the hateful treebowl. There was a collective cheer.
Then Mud pointed at Cuzzi's M8 and told me to make it my bitch. I didn't even know if I could start it, let alone make it go where I figured it should. "Ah, what the hell." I prettymuch had nothing to lose at that point, so we raged it around and I started my 4th trip up the hill. The new cats are pretty tall. In fact my naughty bits were riding mere inches above the seat when I was standing. Despite this, it handled very well up the first 1/3rd of the hill, very nimble and almost mountain goat-like. When I hit a small ridge of rocks across the trail, I expected to just ride over them. Unfortunately they and the M8 kicked my ass. It bounced off them like a little powerball and I found myself partially off the trail, and stucked.
Bill and Harry rescued it. Harry made that M8 his bitch, and made that hill his bitch too. I was left with Skidmark, who I promptly stucked. Powersledder helped me turn around, and I found myself at the bottom again. I had gained a Skidmark, and lost my goggles (they went up on Keith's sled).
Wolfie: 0 - Nemesis Hill: 5.
That's right. I had 5 tries and 3 sleds, and I still didn't make it up.
Skidmark eats a rock and we lose an hour. Keith suggests a match.
We all get stuck. We all have fun. Keith digs to China a couple times.
Keith gets hammered and calls us a billion times to show up and party. His sled gets put on a dumpster.
Finally, M8Stealth said something to the extent of, "I'll get her out. The trail's just a half mile down."
With that began operation Rescue Wolfie's Ass. That was the official title, but I think the point of said mission was to school my ass. It began with some lessons in riding a Skidmark. For example, Skidmark's throttle response is nothing like anything I've encountered before. It has some sort of mind link, and goes BEFORE you touch the throttle. Not only does it go, but it hauls ass right out the gate. That's pretty fun!
Skidmark and I followed behind the M8, and we began winding through the trees. Rick slowed up to get himself under a low hanging sapling, and I did the same, then pinched it to catch up. Skidmark leapt forwards, all too happy to please, and I found myself on my back in the snow.
That bastard little sapling had grabbed my pack and viciously threw me to the ground. Dirty little mother fucker!
Rick saw the whole thing. I can't imagine how hilarious that must've looked, but I could see that he was laughing his ass off, so we'll just go with that.
On we went. About the time we'd taken off, it had started snowing. This wasn't a big deal in the trees, but then the M8 in front of myself and my worthy steed dropped off onto a river. Wait, a river!!?! WTF dude!? I did not agree to the riding of any rivers! Not on Skidmark or any other sled!
I began to seriously question whether or not this was an actual rescue attempt, or if I was just getting fucked with. All I could think of was dropping through the ice at any second, so I started hurrying along behind, relieved that, at worst, it was only a half mile. The more I hurried, the more the pelting snowflakes went in my eyes. When I sat down, I couldn't steer thanks to Skidmark's 10 inches of handlebar rise.
That's the whole boring reason the rescue took so long, there was no M8Stealth/Wolfie riversex, it was all thanks to my not having any goggles on, and only being able to go about 20 mph thanks to snowflakes going in my eyes. Also, when M8Stealth says, "just a half mile," He really means a crapload of miles on partially rough partially slushy terrain.
Finally, we met back up with the main group. I was whipped (and looked like I was crying thanks to all the pelting snowflakes in my eyes), and the rest of the dudes looked fairly bored. I ride way way faster when I can see where I'm going AND steer. That was the most hateful rescue I've ever endured in my life. Despite that, I will give a chagrined thanks to M8Stealth for the execution of Operation Rescue Wolfie's Ass.
See if I ever follow that dude down any hills again.
I recovered my goggles, and we hit up some other spots in search of Oak Bluff. We hit up some more tree-filled areas. Skidmark, having been traumatized by the river escapade, decided to eat a rock and burn up a belt. No one really noticed since Harry and Cuzzi had taken off down a small ravine (manloving?), and IBS's stuck was the object of attention. M1ooseRick was thrilled by the way IBS rolled his sled down the hill to unstuck it. I had only caught the tail end of that unstucking attempt, and honestly thought that the turd had rolled over a good three times. I was kinda disappointed to hear that this was not the case.
Finally, it was brought to our attention that Skidmark was fucked. Some went to help, and some of us sat back and watched the clusterfuck. Others (me) went to go check out a little hut on the top of a hill. It was nothing special except for a leather office chair tied upside down from the ceiling, with plastic hung all over it. Kinky.
I slid down the hill and damnear took a stick up the ass. After that and more waiting, my torn up snowpants got soaked through. It snowed about an inch while we waited and waited for the crew to rescue Skidmark. Finally, I got curious enough to check shit out, and ventured up there with the hopes that said shit would be over by the time I managed to trudge over there.
Cuzzi suggested a match, but I'm not sure who would've ridden with Harry as bitch. I don't think the Wolfsled would've done too well. I was about three minutes early, but I was cool with seeing the rock get forced out from between the track and the bulkhead. Good job dudes!
There was a neat side hilling wall where I prettymuch tooled along the trail, just watching the rest of the Nutz do their thing. Bill had an epic stuck, and about that time, I really wish I would've had a helmet cam or something to record the sweet lines and stucks and failures. There were shitloads of them.
Oak bluff was pretty sweet too. I had a way easier time on the Wolfsled than I did on Fagsex's skidon't last year. Despite having a way easier time, I still had a bunch of stucks which kept Bill and Gerbil and maybe a few others kinda busy digging me out. Thanks dudes! IBS finally got us all to stop for this thing he calls "lunch" and I would've gotten in on some Admin sweet and salty nut roll, but I am a terrible catch. I lost it in the snow. Some squirrel is going to be beside himself when he gets ahold of that thing this summer.
When we hit up the other side of Oak Bluff, the group sortof turned into two groups. This was okay, since Rubi was telling me how to ride and carve an Edge, and there was a little pow left on some logging trails to practice (if you can call what I was doing practicing). After a while, which didn't seem all that terribly long after IBS's demanded lunch break, our fearless assmin asked about Henry's. It just so happened to be fish night.
"Wanna see a fat boy eat 4 pounds of shrimp?"
It was damnnear dark by the time we got all the dudes and myself rounded up to go back to the home base. Next go-round, I am going to bring some clear-lensed goggles along, since it was getting kinda hard to see.
At Henry's, it wasn't toooooo packed. This was kinda cool since last year, we had to split up into a bunch of two-somes. We all crammed in at one table this time around. I believe attending members included the Ricks, DCUBA, Harry, Mud, and myself. Earlier in the day, MooseRick was apologizing for the behavior of the group. That night at Henry's, the poor guy found out that no apology was necessary. I should probably apologize to him.
It was Harry's birthday too, so we started sending shots his way, and he prettymuch wasn't even phased even after we had all bought him one. What a champ. The food wench prettymuch smeared herself all over me. I wasn't all that stoked over her at all. Broad, for real, if you're trying to catch dude's attention by committing acts of lesbianism, throw me a hint first or something. At the very least, make sure the dudes are watching. Also, please don't make me almost spill my fish.
That was a pretty good night. Harry didn't get any birthday sex since he was passing out almost immediately upon arrival back at the Peppermill. Gerbil was thrilled to point this out. Harry was also scared shitless that we were going to fuck with him too. Any tiny little noise freaked him right out of his sleep. This was so entertaining that we didn't even bother fucking with him.
Sometime throughout that night too, Cuzzi started calling and texting, sending Mud's phone into all kinds of robot-orgasmic sounding shouts of "DROID." He was with the Kesslers. I don't know that much else needs to be said other than the fact that he called a billion times since he didn't want us to miss out on all the fun.
IBS later made the announcement that Keith's sled got put on a dumpster. Like I said, that was a pretty good night...
For example, Skidmark's throttle response is nothing like anything I've encountered before. It has some sort of mind link, and goes BEFORE you touch the throttle. Not only does it go, but it hauls ass right out the gate.
That's pretty much the way sleds are. If you weren't accustomed to the 3 or 4 seconds of bogging before your sled moves, it wouldn't have been too noticeable.