Mother's Day Madness

This Sunday was the day where we all pay homage to our mother's and wives (that is if they are still with us or we are still married to them) by getting up early and making sure we are on the trails at least an hour earlier then usual so we can get back and provide all of the support and love the women in our lives deserve. For me it was just another Sunday where my loving wife, Beth, sent me off to a ride, I gave thanks to my long lost mother and really didn't think twice about my ex wife, got to ride with the gang and of course drink some of the finer yeasty malted beverages from the good old US of A.
Finally back from the ravages of surgery, Top Chef was ready to go with 5 inches of plush travel and a pair of compression bib shorts that rivaled the corsets of the 1800's. After being off the bike for over 9 weeks we wanted to take it easy on our our cook and decided that today was going to be a day to bring out your dead - so off we headed for some of the oldest trails in Stewart, old friends that probably had not seen the knobs of a tire or the snot of a farmer's nose blow since the late '90s.
The fun really began with the first puddle where Sven/Ingamar/Richard/Tom Rossi made a go at yours truly but with skills honed from hours in the dojo I sensed the sudden quickening of the cranks on the 650b machine and with a quick stab of the brakes left Mr. Rossi spraying water on no one but himself. Well this game continued for a while until suddenly during one of the many mind f@*k sessions around the water holes good old Shop Sidekick decided it was time to get in the game.
After bit of the dicing around the water it was a quick right and we were onto the A/C trail, appropriately named as this is where all of the old air conditioners in Orange County go to retire and play shuffle board. Half way down the trail everything suddenly came to a stop as we hit the only turtle crossing in Stewart. While the Mayor was carefully picking the little guy up to move off the trail our Top Chef was into his camelbak pulling out the knives and drooling over the thought of a bit of turtle soup and IPA.

A bit further down the trail we came upon the ghost of Mike Davidson past, this tasty black single speed beach bike (contrary to any rumors this was not an Independent Fabrication test frame) that we all agreed was the spirit of Hawaiian Mike himself. Well I took that bitch for a brief ride, tried to catch some air (failed) and then ran into a tree (absolute confirmation that it was HM's spirit).

As the troops rode off into the distance Shop Sidekick and I enjoyed a quick rode of bike toss before sprinting back to the pack. The rest of the ride was dominated by the good old comraderie that years of riding together fosters and of course all of the reminders that Hawaiian Mike had once again failed to deliver on the promise of making it out with the guys.
Once again we all found ourselves pondering what had become of our long lost friend and ex mountain bike rider Hawaiian Mike Davidson. Well friends we were all in agreement that it was some like this at Casa de Mike -

In the kitchen-

Teacher's pet on the way to detention -

Mother's day with the family -

Getting the post ride "massage" -