Monday, August 10, 2009

'Cross in the Urban Jungle

Despite the traffic, abundant concrete, and that it's NOT SAN LUIS OBISPO, I'm still enjoying riding here. It helps to have a guide, of course, and my guide happens to love dirt. Well, more specifically, he has awesome dirt-dar, meaning, he has found every single speck of singletrack dirt to be found in the Irvine area--and there's a lot, surprisingly. Hence, the latest addition to my bike quiver: The Cross bike. Meet Voodoo:

Crossy-cross bike is being parted together. The frame he scored from a friend who no longer rode her, and he's been able to build her up by taking apart my Orbea and taking pieces from his own collection. We've had to do a few minor purchases, but she's been a score, for shizzles. And guess what, Internet? When I get the new wheels on her, she'll weigh LESS than the Orbea.*

So this past weekend, we went out for our first urban-cross adventure--this is how E prefers to ride, when he's not on his mt. bike. It involves road riding, hopping onto sidewalks, cutting through singletrack, back onto roads, a few trail poaching diversions, more road, and often fireroads. It's super, super fun. Riding with him, I feel like a kid, following my childhood boy buddies around the neighborhood.

We went into this area called El Moro, which is mostly fireroad, but there's some singletrack, too. Riding the cross bike on dirt is a whole new skill, and I'm becoming quite enamored with it: you really have to feel the bike--you can't rely on your suspension to bail you out. I'm sure this new 'cross thing is going to result in a plethora of bruises and scrapes, but that's not super unusual for me. In fact, with all of the mt. biking I've been doing since I moved here, I don't think I've had a multi-day stretch where my knees and elbows haven't been scraped/and or colored with some sort of bluish/purplish bruises.
Ten-year old boys think I'm cool and observant females give me numbers for domestic abuse hotlines.

* That's a whole different post. I'm now totally obsessed with grams, thanks to his f#*&^ bike scale. I was truly horrified when he put my Orbea on there. I simple didn't want to ride her after that. Why bother? She's fat.


Tamara said...

No fatty, fatty boopalatties allowed. Only mini, skninny, cutie patotties.

Anonymous said...

How come it ain't painted pink?