The Weekly Parable

By Darren Eyre and David Armstrong

Bill was excited to introduce his friend, Tom, to the sport of mountain biking. Tom was an experienced road biker, and Bill was sure he would take to mountain biking like jelly takes to peanut butter. Bill had just bought a new mountain bike, and he happily let Tom borrow his old bike.

As the pair sat side by side on their bikes at the top of the trailhead, Bill offered Tom one piece of advice. “The most common mistake new mountain bikers make is to hit a rock on the trail without enough momentum. If you go too slow, the rock will catch your front wheel and cause you to endo.”

“What’s endo?” Tom asked as he eyed the rock-strewn trail ahead.

“End-over-end. You flip over the handlebars and crash. Try to avoid endos.”

Tom nodded. “Roger.”

Bill took off first and quickly disappeared around the bend. Tom followed with caution. A dirt trail looked nothing like a nice, flat, smooth road. Bill left a dust trail that choked Tom and filled his eyes with grit. Nevertheless, he pushed off, pumped the pedals twice to break inertia, and let gravity pull him down the shallow grade, hands firmly locked on the brake handles.

The ride was bumpy but not unbearable for the first ten yards. As Tom rounded the curve behind which Bill had disappeared, he saw the first sizable rock in the middle of the trail—a jagged gray stone about the size of his fist. Nerves grabbed him, and he clamped down on the brakes. The front tire smashed against the rock and stopped the bike’s forward motion. Tom’s own forward motion was unabated, however, and he flew over the handlebars and crashed onto the hard, dusty trail. His helmet saved his skull, but he lay on his stomach with bloody elbows and a mouth full of dirt.

Bill rode back up the trail and stopped beside Tom’s prostrate body. “Let me guess. You hit the brakes instead of pedaling harder.”

Tom spit out the dirt, rolled over, sat up, and wiped his tongue with his shirt. “Yeah, I think that’s what I remember.”

Bill shook his head and smiled. “It happens to everybody the first time on the trail. Remember, momentum will carry you over the rocks. The brakes will kill you. Just have faith in your equipment. That bike is designed to roll right over rocks, but he gotta have speed. And if you have to endo, try to jump over the handlebars to reduce the pain when you land.”

“Roger that.” Tom got up, picked up the bike, and walked it past the rock.

“See you at the bottom!” Bill yelled as he pedaled away.

Tom started down the trail again. Another rock appeared in his path. Exercising faith in both the bike and Bill’s advice, he pedaled hard. When the front tire hit the rock, the impact jolted him, but the bike sailed over the rock, and Tom kept going.

Twenty minutes later, Tom stopped in a cloud of dust next to Bill, who was astride his bike at a fork in the trail. “Are we lost?” Tom asked.

“Nope,” Bill responded. “The trail builders are constructing a new branch. I’m thinking about exploring where this section will connect with the outside loop and what technical features they’re creating. This section is going to be the first black diamond portion of the trail system.”

“Lead on, O my captain,” Tom said with a flourish.

As they approached the new branch trail, a rope crossed the beginning of the trail with a sign that read, “Danger. Trail under construction. Do not enter.”

Tom stopped. “I guess that means we’re not supposed to go in there.”

“Nope.” Bill shook his head. “What that sign really means is, ‘Come on in and see the new and exciting stuff we’re making for you.’”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s not what it means,” Tom said.

Bill did what any good friend would do. “I promise, we’ll only walk our bikes on the trail.” After a minute of walking on a nicely compacted single track, Bill said, “The trail’s in good condition. I think we can ride if we stay cautious.” Five minutes later, it was obvious to both riders that the trail was in great shape, and they picked up speed.

Shortly ahead, a two-foot rock drop hove into Tom’s view. He had already ridden a similar drop a ways back without crashing. He figured he could easily handle this one, even though he couldn’t see the trail beyond the rock. Remembering the lesson on momentum, he sped up, jumped off the rock, and observed with a flash of panic that that was where the trail construction ended. His front tire sank six inches into soft, loose dirt on the landing, and he tumbled over the bike in another spectacular endo. He somersaulted down the hill, jammed his helmet into a long, sharp piece of wood, and flopped like a ragdoll into a boulder. Bill hurried down to survey the damage with a first-aid kit in hand.

Recovered and back on the main trail, Bill took off at breakneck speed, leaving Tom in the dust again. Around a bend, Tom saw a river looming ahead. He pulled up at the edge of the rushing water and looked at Bill standing on the opposite bank. Bill motioned for Tom to cross with the shout, “Dude, send it!” Tom assumed this was an encouragement to ride through the river.

“You got this!” Bill yelled. “Go for it!”

Against his better judgment, Tom gave in and decided to “huck and pray.” He backed up the trail twenty yards and launched himself toward the water with all the speed he could muster, hoping momentum would carry the day.

Due to the way light refracts in water, the river was deeper than it looked. Tom’s front tire dropped into the water at a sharp incline. He endoed over the bike again and crashed in the river, the water of which had just been created by freshly melted snow at an elevation of about 10,000 feet. Hypothermia set in. He managed to drag his bike through the icy water to the place where his friend was standing.

Bill shook his head. “Sorry, Tom. The jump-off spot was five yards to your left. I thought you saw where I was pointing.”

“Yeah, well, next time, point more emphatically,” Tom said through chattering teeth.

Approaching the end of the trail, Bill motioned Tom to take the lead. The trail was smooth and hard as concrete. Tom felt energized and shot ahead as Bill waved him on.

After leading for a few minutes, Tom looked backward to see how Bill was doing while holding the handlebar with one hand and getting a drink out of a bottle with his other hand at the same time. He didn’t consider this a dangerous maneuver on a typical road—but he was not on a typical road. His tire hit a rock and over the bars he went … again. He smashed his helmet, face, and elbow into the limestone and gravel. Bill ran up with his first-aid kit again, and Tom cleaned up the mess.

It was late in the afternoon when Bill and Tom reached the end of the trail and turned around to ride back to where they had parked the car. After a hot day, the thought of riding in the cool of the evening was refreshing. Being on the east side of the mountain, the shade filled the trail with a dark gloom. Below them, waning sunlight filled the valley and threw long shadows. They traveled north for three miles. Going uphill now, the pedaling was harder, and they moved more slowly. The valley soon grew dark, and black clouds to the east announced an approaching storm. The tall clouds rolled in, choking the last of the sunlight. The cool air became a stiff, cold wind that blew rain into Tom’s face.

Wet and cold, the two riders decided to use the lesson about momentum and pedal as fast as they could back to the trailhead. Neither bike had a headlight, and neither man had brought a flashlight. Tom knew riding blind at top speed was not a good idea, but the cold rain drove him on.

One section of the trail traversed through a creek with no bridge. Tom had easily ridden through it on his way down the trail earlier in the day and so, he was not nervous about meeting the creek again, even though it was getting hard to see in the dark. As he bombed down a steep section of the trail and into the creek, he abruptly flipped over the bike, smashed his helmet into a large, sharp rock, and lay in shock face down in the creek. So much for that momentum principle … and for staying dry!

Bill, who was trailing Tom, pulled up short of the creek, dropped his bike, and ran through the rushing water to pick up his friend.

After regaining his composure and investigating what had happened, Tom discovered that someone had placed three large logs in the middle of the creek that had not been there when he had crossed the creek earlier. Bill dragged both bikes over the logs and stood them against a tree on the bank of the creek. Tom shivered as he sat on a wet rock but was none too anxious to jump back on the saddle.

“Well, partner,” Bill drawled, “I guess we learned another lesson today.”

“Would that lesson have anything to do with your riding point instead of me?”

Bill shook his head. “Nope, but I’m buying a light for my bike and a headlamp for my helmet first thing tomorrow morning.”

Tom clambered to his feet, cold water rushing over and into his shoes. “That’s assuming we make it back to civilization before this night is over.”

“That’s no problem. We’re practically at the trailhead already.”

“Okay, if you say so. But you’re leading the rest of the way back.”

A half hour later, they lashed the bikes to the rack on the back of Bill’s SUV and tumbled into the front seats. Safe at last, Tom closed his eyes and offered a sincere prayer of thanks for being alive.

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^{Photo by Jo Stone on Pexels.com}

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