So far here in the US I’ve only been out on my mountain bike for three rides. In more than 3 months … with dusty trails just a few minutes away, and no rain. That’s not something I’m too proud of, though I am riding a good few miles to work most days on my trusty mid-90s road bike which keeps the fitness levels up. The fact that two of those three rides have been at night says something though … even if it is dry and dusty, it is still winter, which means that by the time I get home from work it’s dark.
Last night a few of us headed up to a spot which had already built a legendary reputation for itself in my mind, just in the few conversations I’ve had with local bikers – “The Flow Trail”. It was awesome. I can’t wait to ride it during the day. We did laps, drunk a load of beer, rode fast and loose, and nobody got hurt. This beer drinking on a bike ride is new to me. Andy always seems to rock up with a 12 pack in his rucksack, and we get through a can or two at the top of each climb, to celebrate.
The flow trail is made up of endless swoops, dips, drops and turns on dry hardpack dirt, twisting in between the trees. Just like a tight, well built BMX track, but twisted onto the side of a mountain. Each lap was faster and faster – but my mind was always very aware of the unknown dangers lurking just out of sight at the edge of our little pools of white light. It sometimes felt like we were riding along the rim of a dark, deep crater, where one slip off the trail would end up in a long, nasty fall.
Woop woop!
I got pulled over by the police on the way back. It was almost midnight and there were more cop cars out than I’ve ever seen before, and I guess the van isn’t your usual suburban family car, so it does attract more attention. I passed the patrol car in a gas station and saw it pull out behind me. Uh oh, what do they want from me? After driving down the road a short while, on go the lights, and I pull over. The guys come up to the window with blinding flashlights, I have visions of dramatic scenes from numerous American movies with drivers held to the bonnet [hood] with arms twisted behind their backs.
Turns out I just needed an illuminated rear licence plate – something that I’d actually been warning about ages ago by a local shipwright nearby. Must get that sorted some day soon. And a Californian driving licence.









