Hatfield-McCoy Ride blow by blow

Ok guys, before I get into this, please be advised that this is more or less for a chuckle and to let you guys know what happens when members from the UHE get together. This is in hopes that you'll consider joining us next time. THIS IS NOT REPRESENTATIVE OF ALL THE RIDING THAT OCCURED. I suck at riding, and am intimate with my limitations, so I ride what I'm comfortable with, that being parking lots, sidewalks and clearly marked straight, flat and unobstructed straight pathways that are groomed by little men with rakes and hoes. I'm the exception to the rule, so most of the riding that went on was on advanced or expert trails and below. I value my health and bone structure, so I don't ride those. Maybe one of the other riders will chime in and let you guys know what their ride was like. Just enjoy this one for what it is.

Day 1 & 2: No riding! That's right folks, I plan to waste your valuable brain cells by writing about two days that didn't include any riding. This is just because I can. If you don't want to read it, skip to day 3.

Husyoddady(AKA bro, AKA Charles) is working late, so I start getting everything ready. I go and pick up the U-Haul trailer. Actually I pick up and drop off 4, due to no lights, partial lights and non-latching receivers. Irregardless, I get the trailer and load up my bike that was at the shop and head over to his house to load bro's and Berger's bike. After getting three bikes shoehorned into a 5x8 box trailer, I head home to grab all my gear and finish some things up on the site. I manage to get most of the stuff that I need and throw all my clothes into a laundry hamper(my wife took our duffle bag on her trip). With crap falling out all of the slots, I end up making about 5 trips through the house picking up the flotsam and jetsam that fell out of the basket. Throwing it in the truck, I go back to check the site one last time and shut down the computers and I'm off! I get to bro's house at 6:40pm(6:30 was our agreed upon meeting time) and he's not there, so I wait. about 6:55 he rolls in and he asks me if I've waited long. I told him I was here since 6:30, and if I have the courtesy to show up on time, he could do the same. He gives me a noogie and goes into the house to grab his stuff. We throw it all in the truck and head out. The truck was pretty damned laggy to begin with. With an empty trailer, it became sluggish. With one bike it had the acceleration of a moped. with three bikes and all our gear, it's now like piloting an oil tanker. You've got to plan ahead. We decide we'll try to make it to Tenessee before calling it a night and settle in for the long haul. Bro berates me the whole way because I drive slow. I guess between being a parent, heavily medicated and recently paying for a speeding ticket, I've become quite the slow poke. I've just never noticed because nobody's been in the car to tell me. Bro makes up for lost time by giving blow-by-blow playback of all the people that pass me and a few that I pass("I guess they ran out of gas.", "Oh look, he's sleeping!" and "That one doesn't count bro, it's in a parking lot..."). As we both suspected it took much longer to get to TN than we originally figured and we rolled in late enough to not want any dinner, so we back the trailer up to a building so nobody will steal our precious cargo and bro and I head into the motel room for the night. We share a bag of trail mix for dinner and bro turns out the lights. As anyone who read Moab's ride report knows, Bro sleeps light and immediately on lights out. I don't, and I didn't bring a flashlight(it fell out of my laundry basket) and so I listen to the air conditioner until I finally fall asleep.

The next morning, we're both up and ready to go. The hotel said they had continental breakfast until 10 am and it's 9:30 so we're excited to get some sweet eats and coffee before heading out. We go to the office and walk into the eats area. All of the food bins are empty and two of the four coffee caraffes are on their sides so we go to the two remaining caraffes and take our chances. I got "Jamaican mutant mocha nut strained through a jock strap" and I believe bro ended up with "Juan's reject beans with a dash of asphalt". We get back in the truck gas up and head back out.

We're both pretty excited because we covered 2/3's of the distance the night before, so today should be a breeze. We rocket through all the interstate and get on "52". Only 48 miles to go, so we expect to be in Gilbert in an hour. It turns out that 52 West Virginia has put every shut down coal town on 52 with speed limits of 25 mph or less, so this is a hugely incorrect assumption. We start driving through, and each town is more destitute than the last. By 10 miles in, we've got the windows up, a/c on recirculate and the doors are locked. We both agree to fight to the death if we see a "citizen road block". We manage to make it to Gilbert(Town Motto: "We're naturally resourceful", we take this to mean that they eat their dead") and we pull into the Speedway to get some gas and a sandwich from the Subway. We walk by a gentleman filling his car up holding a cigarrette in the same hand as the fill nozzle, then past a group of four in a Jeep Cherokee downing a beer each while getting out of their ride to go purchase more beer in the store. We dodge eye contact with everyone and get to the Subway counter without incident. Let me just take this moment to make a plea to the Subway head office to CLOSE DOWN GILBERT'S SUBWAY!. This particular franchise should have their sandwich making license taken away, cut into little pieces and burned. Charles got a "frozen toasted meatball sandwich" which we previously would have thought impossible, and I got a subway melt that they forgot the meat on, which is ok, because they also forgot to melt it. I eat my bread and Bro eats his replacement "frozen chicken sandwich" and we head back to the truck to go to the hotel to get a room for our stay. We throw our stuff in the room and head out to see the sights.

We stop at the local liquer store/Trail ride permit station and get our stickers for the week, head across the street to the Bike shop to see if they have any shirts, look at their one shirt on the wall, and head back to the truck to go back to the hotel. We get to the hotel and double lock the door.

I call Berger to see if he made it into the Charlston airport. He has and is waiting on Coffin to arrive. We ask him when he plans to show up and he says that everyone is riding in Logan on Friday morning. Since we have Berger's gear and bike, we thought it was only fair if we show up . I tell him we'll be there by 8:30 and we settle in for the night. We order a pizza and I drink about 8 diet cokes. I disassemble the room's phone system so I can use the internet to check the site. Bro goes to sleep and I lie in the dark listening to the guys in the next room talk about skinning deer until about 2 am when I fall asleep. Knowing what I know now, this was all worth it....

Day 3

Day 3: The first ride!(kind of...) We get up and head over to Logan. While enroute, Berger left a message that they were at the Shoney's next door. We pull up and walk over where we find the guys finishing breakfast. The waitress asks bro if he wants the breakfast bar, and he says that he'd like a menu, which angers her. She comes back with a menu, and he orders a chicken sandwich. During this time, I get to meet BP and his crew, skunk, volvonut, eman, coffin, wildbill and parsko. I give Berger a quick backrub and we go outside to talk while everyone turns in their room keys and throws their stuff into their cars.

I get to talk to all of the guys, and can say that everyone turned out to be exceptionally cool. Coffin scares me, but I stand my ground on the belief that like a dog, if he smells fear, he'll pounce on me like a t-bone. I later find out that regardless of whether he smells fear or not, he's going to pounce on you. BP tells us what we're doing and where we're going, bro shows berger his shiney new ride and we load up to go to the first ride spot. We stop at a gas station for ice and gas, and head over to the trail head.

Upon arrival, everyone begins unloading their bikes. Originally berger was going to show me how to adjust my valves the night before, but since we all ended up in different spots, I figured we'd ride in the morning and do it later. 713 would have none of that. The bike wouldn't start, so we told the rest of the crew to go ahead and we'd do it in the blazing 96 degree heat with no cover in the dirt. They head out and bro goes on a ride with Coffin. Ken begins to show me the ins & outs of my precious bike and in time we get the valves sorted. We put it back together and put a new plug in it. By now everyone's back from their first ride. I'm feeling a little ill by this time, and I sit in the truck for a little bit. I manage to sit it out while everyone adjusts my carb, fine tunes my bike and takes it on a few test rides. I think of it as the "Huck Finn syndrome". I make a mental note to "feel ill" anytime something hard comes along in my life.

Everyone wants to go out on another ride, but remember when I told you what a bad rider I was? Well, that's on my good days. On my bad days, I shouldn't be allowed anything more powerful than a 10 speed. Bro tells BP to go on without us and bro's going to take me and berger out on a green trail. I try to hold out for pink, but bro says they don't exist. We get geared up and head over to the closest green trail and head into the woods. The trail is nothing but large rocks, so I spend about 5 minutes bouncing from one side of the trail to the other while trying to keep bro in my sites. We come to a turn no more than a mile in and there's a log across the trail with a rivine right at the side of the trail. I cautiously idle up to the log, looking both ways for any woods animals that may be crossing, then peg the gas and let the clutch loose. I do an incredibly short impersination of "The Wheelie King", then the rear wheel hits the log, and the bike and I fall into the rivine, which wouldn't be so bad except the bike is now on top of me. We slide a few feet down, and I get out from under the bike doing a reverse somersault and landing on the log in the thinking man's pose. Berger hops off his bike and walks over to tell me that he never would have thought of falling here, and wondered aloud if maybe I thought the trail was too easy and wanted to blaze a new trail. I kind of nod my head, since I don't understand any of the words coming out of his mouth. I get up and try to get the bike back up to the trail. Berger slides down to help me and we begin to shimmy the bike back up the hill. We get it back up none the worse for wear and we begin taking the seat and filter off to try to get the oil out of the box that drained in during my stunt riding. Bro comes back to see what's going on, goes to get a rag and some tools. Berger cleans up the bike and gets it started, in the process showing me the Husaberg's impersination of a mosquito fogger. We get the bike back together and berger rides the Berg out while I ride bro's KTM 400 and bro rides Berger's KTM 300 out. It seems that I can't be trusted with the Husaberg and bro and berger both worry about my ability to ride berger's bike without a clutch lever(it's got an autoclutch). We head back to the trail head and bro and I agree that if I don't get a ride in, I will be no good for tomorrow if I don't get a successful ride in today, so he says he'll take me on the trail he and coffin rode earlier. We get some more water and head out to the next trail. With absolutely no excitement involved we make it to the top of the trail, and turn around to come back. I can tell berger is growing wary of me stopping at every turn on the road, but the road is only 12 feet wide, and I fear that an earth mover super truck may come around the corner at 60 and wipe me out. It doesn't matter that one has never been on these roads, it could happen.... really, it could. We get turned around and head back to the trucks. I manage not to maim myself, and thus exorcise the first ride demons from my trip. We all talk a little bit and I enthrall everyone with tales of my tabletops on the black trails and we load up the bikes for the haul over to Gilbert. Everyone else tells me of the liberties Coffin took with the community manequinn. We get back in to the hotel, and I use the miniature flashlight in the shape of a pig that bro bought me at a gas station to read until I fall asleep with the thought that I can't possibly ride any worse tomorrow.

Day 4 & 5

Day 4 & 5: ...and for my next amazing act of mediocrity... Ok, I know what you're thinking... no, not that thought, the other one you dirty little man. "When do I hear about the real riding?" Well, first let me say that it's all in the perspective. To me, every painful revolution of my wheels should have been included on "On any given Sunday". To people like everyone else at the ride, watching me ride is like watching a slow motion crash between two shopping carts in the produce isle at the local grocery store. There's not much to it, and you feel dumber simply for having watched it. Well, to end the suspense early, I don't go home with a trophy, Gilbert didn't name a trail after me and nobody stopped me on the way out for an autograph, BUT... I had an excellent time riding, so that's what you'll hear about. Oh, and also about how Coffin kissed me and squeezed my butt. Ah, now I've got your attention....

Day four dawns and other than my bad hair, I'm none the worse for wear. We're up early enough to meet everyone for breakfast at the local establishment. I consider asking the waitress if they sell coffee via IV, but after seeing the motley crowd she has to deal with, I decide to settle for a cup with a handle on the side of it. It works fine and I get about 3/4 of the first cup in my mouth. No problem though. I wear dark shirts specifically for this reason, and nobody stares, so I've gotten away with it yet again. We all eat like it's our last meal before meeting with the exocutioner, and we head out to the cars. BP and crew head back to the trailhouse and berger, coffin, bro and I head to the hotel to get the bikes and visit what I like to call "The thinking man's room". Bro calls first dibs for taking a "think", so I don't get to spend as much time as I'd like, because it smells really bad when he's done thinking.

We get to the trailhouse and everyone pulls the bikes out. We gas up and top off the oil and everyone gets geared up. Berger offers coffin his bike and coffin accepts. BP comes over and asks us if we're ready. I've already talked to bro and told him of my fears of having another "special ed" riding day, so bro tells him we'll head out on our own and see how we do. The rest of the crew ride off into the sunrise and bro waits patiently as I pound pepto and visit the "thinking man's room" repeatedly. Finally it seems that I can not possibly purge any more evil from my body and I've run out of excuses for delaying the inevitable any longer, so we mount up and fire the bikes off. Since the valve adjustment, 713 has started second kick cold, first on hot, and it continues in this fashion throughout the day.

We wave bye to berger and Marty, the trailhouse owner, and head down the road to the trailhead. We get on the trail, and I begin to worry. It seems that WV used this trail as well as a dumping point for all it's most pointy and oddly shaped rocks in the state. In about a mile though, it peters out and becomes a more traditional clay and bedrock trail. My kind of stuff, and I settle down and allow myself to release my death grip on the handlebars. We ride for about 15 minutes and come to a blue trail. Most people would scoff at a blue trail, but most people don't ride as poorly as I. I begin to sweat inside my custom graphic, $37 helmet and wonder if I can feign cardiac infarction when bro stops and asks me if I think I can do it or if we should turn around and go back to another green. Let me just say now that my brother is like the coolest person on earth. He's a very good rider, but on every ride we've gone on like this, he's stuck with me through all my weeble-wobble method of riding without killing me and hiding my body in a rotten tree. He doesn't even wince when I begin to cry like a baby and ask to be held. So, in return for his being so cool, I figure it's the least I can do to try the blue trail so he can have at least a little fun. It's a steep uphill in a zig-zag pattern, where you'll go up about 20-30 feet, make a 110-130 degree turn to the left another uphill then to the right etc. with about four uphills in total. Bro goes up in his usual lounge chair fashion, and I memorize the distance to the first turn so I don't have to open my eyes once I'm commited. I start up in first but quickly realize that riding slower than I walk is not a good idea, so I go to second, but release the clutch too quickly, so I traverse about a third of the first uphill doing a wheelie. I make it to the turn and pull my Forest Gump impersination of manhandling a bike that could make the turn without trouble if I'd only let it, then accomplish making it up the rest of the hill. Bro's waiting for me at the top, and is happy to see that I've completely exorcised the demons and we can begin to have fun in earnest. This means I'll be tentatively visiting third gear if I end up in the middle of a football field filled with memory foam mattresses. We continue on our way and end up on some cool hillside trails that meander around towards the top with cool views and enough trees for me to bounce off of in case I start plummeting down the hill making a path where none previously existed.

We come to a relatively steep downhill and bro heads down and around the corner. I start and three quads meet me going up. We both stop and begin to motion the other on, but both of us are refusing. I see bro down at the bottom waiting, so I figure they asked for it. The trail is just wide enough for the quad, and they couldn't pull over far, so I have to ride the berm against the high side of the trail to keep from hitting them. One quad fender, a pair of goggles, and a left arm later, I'm below them, and their on their way up. I've gained more parts than I lost, so figuring I'm in the black, I get back to the middle of the trail and head the rest of the way to the bottom. A couple of turns later, we find BP and crew resting after a "black trail of death". We pull up and I figure it's a good time for a photo op. This way, I don't have to ride the black trails, but I'll be in the photos to prove I was there. I hop off and we all take turns taking group photos so everyone can end up in the shot. After a little more water, we split back up and bro and I head off to the next "green stands for happy" trail.

We head up some increasingly wider trails and end up on an old rotten asphalt road about a mile or two long. Now this is going to sound incredibly cheesy, but this is where I got the Berg into sixth for the first time under my ownership. I had done it once before, but it was on accident so that one doesn't count, since you can't really do 6th at 25 mph. We get to the end of it and the trail tightens back up, so we stop for some water and to take a look at the map. We see that the trail goes to the town of Mann, where we can get on the road, go get gas and then come back to Gilbert on the other side of the mountain. This sounds cool to both of us, so we start up again. While riding, I think "Man, I'm going to get a big drink and some Ho-Ho's." Then I think "crap, I can't do that, I don't have any money...". Then minutes later(yes, I'm that slow), I think "If I don't have money for a drink, how am I going to get gas?". I immediately start trying to catch up to bro, but he's having none of that. At every trail split he stops and turns around, I wave my hand like I'm on fire, he gives a thumbs up and heads up the next trail. I'm going faster each time this happens, and he gets more excited every time he turns around, thinking that I've become the next RC. In reality, I'm scared shitless, but am more afraid I'm going to run out of gas and build a grass hut until a group on 4 wheelers find me and molest me. Finally we get to the end of a trail and I'm waving with both hands now, and he stops. I ask bro if he has any money, and he does not. We call Berger's cell phone and leave a message on what trails we'll be on and when to expect us back, and turn around to head back.

We get on a sandy wide road and all of a sudden, we're in the middle of a huge cloud of dust. Slowing down, we begin looking for the cause of the dust. I'm thinking that there's some 4 wheelers doing donuts in the road, but we go for a long time and never find them, so that can't be it. After about 2 or 3 minutes, and dump truck materializes in front of us. We follow the truck until another trail comes off of the road and take off back up the hill. We're having a grand time, and eventually come back to the group for the second time.

They're drinking and talking about all the cool trails they did. I make up some cool stories that didn't actually happen, and everyone thinks I'm really cool, so I stop there. I usually take it too far like the time I told people that they named a bicycle after me, which always backfires, so I keep that one to myself. Coffin's with them and he's feeling a little flushed from the day's heat and says he's going to head back. VolvoNut says he's got to head out so he's coming with. We tell coffin that we'll go out with him so he won't get eaten by quadders. I secretly want to be there to haggle for some of his sweet riding gear before they dismember him.

We head back on all the trails bro and I had done, with coffin and bro alternating the lead and VolvoNut and I alternating bringing up the rear. I'm having the best time, going a little faster than I normally would, but comfortable and enjoying watching the other guys riding. Then it starts raining. Hard. Everyone picks up the pace. Now I'm no longer comfortably riding slightly above my skill level. Now I'm hanging on for dear life, getting pelted by rain and using my index fingers as windshield wipers. I stay behind so nobody will see me fall to my death. I don't mind dying so much, but I don't want them to see that it's caused by me wiping my goggles with my fingers as I go off the side of the cliff. Even I have limits. VolvoNut stops to take off his glasses and I take the moment to pry my fingers off of the handlebars. I've twisted my grips into something like a playdough shape, and VolvoNut asks me to put his glasses in his backpack. I claw at the zipper while we get soaked. I finally get them stowed away and we catch back up to bro and coffin. We've got some steep downhills with slick clay and rocks. We all do fine and eventually make it to our trail head. We make it to the asphalt and it immediately stops raining.

We get to the truck and strip down. VolvoNut loads his bike before I realize he's even doing it, so I go over after he's done to say bye. I'm sure it looked like I was trying to dodge helping him, but he's nice enough not to say it, so I wish him well and he heads out. I'm sorry to see him go, as it was really the first chance I'd had to really talk to him. Berger's checking out to see if coffin destroyed his bike, but coffin must have switched it for another one, because it's unscathed. I refuse to believe that anyone can ride as hard as he, and not trash the bike. I can mortally maim mine getting it off the trailer. You all now know the havoc I can wreak when I actually ride it. We change clothes, and load the bikes up and it starts raining again. It's about 4, and we're starving, so Berger and I go to pick up some pizza. We come back and scarf it down and settle in to wait for the rest of the crew. Wild Bill and Di show up and get cleaned up as well. 6:30 rolls around and still no crew. Marty tells us they are usually out until dark. We head to the hotel to clean up, and see the crew ride through town, so we go back to make sure they made it ok. Everyone had a great time, and they're all feeling the pain, so we bid them adieu and head back to get some sleep for the ride home.

The next morning, we get up earlyish, and meet them for breakfast to say our goodbyes. We go back to the hotel, and coffin and berger hang out while we load the truck. I give berger a big manly hug and go to do the same to coffin. Coffin grabs me like I'm a woman in the world's oldest profession, groping me and kissing me. I tell him "No, I'm not that type of guy!" He refuses to stop, so I squeeze his *** and give him a hickey. That seems to satiate him, so he lets go. We load up, and take a final parting shot of coffin and berger and head on down 52.

We make the trip back in about the same time as on the way up, some heavy rains at the end, and some more ribbing from bro concerning my lack of testicles when it comes to driving. I drop bro off at his house, we unload the bikes and I go home for some rest. And that, your honor is what really happened.

That's it guys. In all, I got to do some riding, but more importantly, I met some really great guys. Absolutely everyone I met was incredibly awesome, and more accomodating than we deserved. Brian set up an awesome ride spot, eman took a lot of time making laminated copies of all the maps so we wouldn't trash paper copies on the trail and get lost and subsequently eaten by the locals, wild bill told some really good jokes, like the "hotdog down a hallway" line, coffin gave me some of the best memories I have(not those kind....god, you guys are dirty...) and berger reminded me why he's the greatest guy ever. I can't say enough about everyone, and I appreciate you all letting me come along for the ride. I'm sorry I didn't get to hang out and ride with you all more, but if you were there, I'm sure you understand the why's. You gave me another great experience to cherish, and I'll do just that until I can make another ride.

thanks,
json

bumpity...

bump!