there is a mysterious thing that happens when you ride bikes with friends. it is usually the case that one party will bring a camera, sometimes both or all parties will bring little digital devices designed to "Sav-A-Moment"®. there is usually some hubbub pre-ride or even a few minutes into the venture concerning these shutterbugs and how you all will take away a fine array of photos describing, as it were, the manner in which you spent your afternoon. but after the first few minutes, the cameras are forgotten. the excitement moves from chimping the pictures of the ride later to the actual ride itself. you all had planned to exchange images as though they were trading cards, "elliott's running-while-crashing shot is equal to some shitty post-EPO baseball player that no one had any respect for in the first place while spencer cleanly sending the second hit on 'Dropout' time and again is worth something like a Mays' rookie card."
but about a week ago, spencer and i rode up into post canyon, the local trail network in hood river, or, and got some snaps of the man-made stunts. for those of you who actually doubt that i ride bikes despite the fact that i work at a bike shop (not a very convincing argument in the first place, granted), here is the proof to the contrary.
my "serious" face.
spencer. red shorts. no shirt. all style. doesn't even fucking care if he crashes into a bush of poison oak and bees.
hot @$$ shot.
i just ordered my new downhill bike from giant and it should get here early to mid-august. bike porn pictures will immediate succeed its arrival.
-e
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