It feels like I’ve recently been trying to write posts that don’t make me sound or seem older or more jaded than I really am… And failing. And after last weekend, I feel like I’m about to once more lapse into writing like I’m 50 when I feel (maturity wise) 25 and ultimately, meh, I’m splitting the difference in reality.

What’s kicked me in the philosophical balls? Slapped me across a forlorn face and given me a Fox inner short wedgie? Its fairly simple:

A weekend of it appearing like I’m the only person on the planet not at the DME

For those not in the know, the Dodzy Memorial Enduro is more commonly referred to as the “Best weekend ever“, and in an alarmingly unanimous fashion may I add.

Before I elaborate on that, and yes, I recognise I was making almost identical noises a year ago, let me complete falling off the ‘Cool AF & contemporary’ wagon and into a big pile of Old Man Muppet shit by starting a sentence with: Remember when?

Well fuck yes, remember when you heard about what everyone else was up to when you met up with them for a ride and they said something like “Yeah, went to this pretty cool race over the weekend bro, you should check it out for next year” everyone would smile and continue on riding, with the non-attendees blissfully wrapped up in their sweet chrysalis of ignorance. This was excellent for 2 reasons:

  1. It meant you had something to actually talk about with your crew as opposed to that weird vague matrix type feeling that because you’ve seen it on anti-social media, you already felt like you knew the whole story, when in fact you don’t know it at all. RIP storytelling
  2. You didn’t spend the entire weekend having your eyeballs fucked by images of all the insanely awesome stuff you weren’t in fear of missing out on, but were at that very moment actually missing out on.

Whilst my Twitter feed is doing an excellent job of convincing me that the world is coming to an end in the next 6-12 months max (A valid reason to buy another Santa Cruz NOW), at least I can relax on the Gram and enjoy soothing pics and limited commentary… But over the weekend my front door was kicked in and the ENDURO community came in with flash bangs, tazers and pegging equipment.

I had a mind blowing 19 people conducting an assault on my self worth via Instagram with pictures and tales of radness, shuttles, some of the “best trails in the world” and just generally good times. But it wasn’t just the 19, like an amateur photography gang bang I knew there were others waiting in the wings, not posting… Just waiting for me to draw a breath before plowing in with their own shots later on. The whole weekend was like being a meth head in prison watching Breaking Bad reruns non-stop for your whole sentence.

It didn’t help that back in Dirty HQ mission planning was at a standstill given the EWS Lottery had to be re-run due to it being contaminated with 3-5 million additional applications from bad hombres… Sad! And when I did try to get out for what resembled 5% of a shred, let me tell you folks, it was just terrible to find that the main stream media had filled in the only rock garden (if you could call it that to start with) in town with the softest dirt science has ever seen – FAKE Trail!!!


Any tremendousness has been buried

My tantrum isn’t so much about simply wanting to be part of the crowd or just being there for the sake of being able to unleash your own photo onslaught on others, its more about knowing what it entails… That feeling of getting the velcro just right on your knee pads, hearing the satisfying clicks of your shoes tightening so they’re just so, feeling that secure snugness as the full face helmet encases you, letting your goggles fall perfect into place, pulling your bike off the trailer and then milling around at the start of the trail… I can easily extrapolate that out to the nods and silent gestures as you sort yourself out into the order before the shred train leaves the station… “Nah bro, you go…” until its replaced by the rushing of air, the squeal of cold brakes (unless you’re running Saints) hard into the first turn and very soon the hooting that will start to emanate from those around you, as you involuntarily join in. Cue ENDUROgasim.

So then, what’s my point? I’m not sure I have one… I mean anti-social media is a bit like masterbation; You can’t stop people from doing it, plus you do it yourself. Fuck knows I’m as guilty AF for rubbing my engorged Gram feed into peoples faces when away at an EWS round. But, you know, its 2017 and Hypocrisy is SO hot right now, everyone is doing it…

I think I just wanted to have a millennial like bitch about a First World Problem of missing out on riding my highly contemporary & immaculately refined 29er ENDURO weapon… AND of course I was mainly pissed on missing out again on riding what by now has become a place almost mythical to me: Wairoa Gorge! 

Every time I see or hear of someone riding in there for the first time they come out with this orgasmic look on their face like they’ve just seen the Holy Grail and it gave them a lap dance. Serious Playa’s leave that place dribbling all over themselves due to its sheer radness… Make mine a FOMOchino with extra cream and almond milk. If there is one planning commitment that I need to make for 2017, its to get my ass to Wairoa Valley to finally experience this nirvana for myself. Yes, we’re now mid segway to frothing about planning the year ahead…

But hold the phone cunt – Hot news to hand, the EWS Election was re-run (there’s an awesome concept) and there’s only one way to correctly describe the outcome:


Shit the ENDURO bed – 4 rounds confirmed for 2017, which while it may be only 50% of the series, when I’ve done 5 in 2 years, 4 in one year suddenly sounds somewhat rabid, but I’m not about to complain… Oh, fuck no, not in the slightest. Locked in for the following action, along with the NZ Enduro:

  • Round 1 – Rotorua NZ
  • Round 3 – Madeira (A massive prize IMO)
  • Round 5 – Millau, France
  • Round 8 – Finale, Italy

What I am going to do, aside from some panic training and glove buying, is to free up some space on my iPhone for photos, so I can unleash my own Gram raids in the months to come… Given we now live in a Populist (AKA – Cunt) world, its always better to be  MOFO than a FOMO.

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