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Dirt Rag Riders Write
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Along the broken highways of this country lies one of our most cherished resources: dirt roads. For countless years, they have served us—and most of humanity—as the foundation of travel. Part creation and evolution, they represent more than the to and fro of our lives. They are, by design, part of the ever-changing expression of nature's dominance. A dirt road is a dynamic entity. With every tire tread or foot print, the road gives. During inclement weather, a dirt road's muddy ruts hinder even the most sophisticated of earth-altering machinery. Yet these roads, never confine hooves, claws, paws or boot. A dirt road is limitless and restrictive. Not many mountain bikers venture on to these forgotten gems. We typically stay near the trails and parks. However, with the winter upon us, maybe it is time to drive down a farm or county road, park your car, saddle up and begin an adventure.
Having lived near farming and ranching communities for most of my life, I've been fascinated with dirt roads. Questions have driven me to their gates. What lies beyond the entrance? Was the road built for a single purpose? Is the end near? The distance of a dirt road is like infinity. Their direction is unknown, save for the straight and narrow seen before the crest of a hill. They are quiet. Nature rests easily along its ditches and fences. Sunsets are more vivid on a dirt road. Finally, as a cyclist, I am blessed with the realization that my mountain bike belongs on a dirt road.
When the trails are wet and covered with snow, I've found winter dirt road riding one of the most rewarding experiences. During my rides I've had no particular direction in mind. My objective was to ride as many new roads as possible. Following the hours of riding, I've thought about the memories of the road. In New Mexico, A tire tread could be an oil truck or a couple on their way to see a Medicine Man. In Arkansas, a dirt road might contain the last thought of a Vietnam veteran. Perhaps, a Colorado dirt road may lead me to an Anasazi Indian ruin. In Oklahoma, I am covered with red dirt. Closing my eyes, I drown in the possibility of my dirt road.
The treasure of a dirt road is something only a mountain biker can discover. Our machines take us kindly through the barriers of a dirt road. We travel easily over single lane bridges. Ruts in the road are smoothed by precise suspension. Gaps, made by the rush of water, become jumps or the beginning of single track. On a mountain bike, we explore. All of us should drive somewhere new, open our eyes a little wider and get on the dirt roads of this beautiful country. Only on a dirt road do we have the opportunity to create.
Walker Thompson lives in southwest Colorado where he maintains a personal blog dedicated to the mountain biking lifestyle.
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