I have weird ears. iPod buds do not insert; rather, they half plug in and
then ease out and dangle.
By Tom Webb
“To me, it sounded like refrigerators
were dropped from a C- 17 and bom-
barding my house. ”
“You could have bald balonies and
a weak suck wagon and still moto like
“Dark chocolate scars followed a
heel drag, showing that it had in fact
I have trouble with some helmets, too, and actually have
to cut ear holes.
I have no idea why I’m sharing this; I’m not bored, but
actually woke up at 3 a.m.
I heard the heavens hack, rattle and spit.
Drops of moisture pitter-pattered off my roof.
It was a gentle rain, almost silent.
To me, it sounded like refrigerators were dropped from a
C- 17 and bombarding my house.
I got a text message at 4: 15 a.m.
“Notice anything out of the ordinary?”
“Only a melodic cacophony machine-gunning my roof.”
“Same here. Let’s contact #3 and do it.”
“Gotcha. Need to brew some caffeine and chew.”
The next text went at 4: 18, after the joe was going and I
plugged a bagel into the toaster.
“Hear any music, #3?”
I hit send and got an immediate response.
“Up, loading the Husky now. I’ve been waiting on you
two since 3: 10.”
I sent a group text to brothers #2 and #3.
“Meet at Mental’s. It’ll probably be a fiasco since every-
one is jonesing to ride wet dirt.”
We arrived in two vehicles as Tip and I met up; Mike
comes from a different area code.
The place was a ghost town.
“You see any cops? Fire? Ebola breakout?”
“I don’t hear the ring of a YZ or the throb of a stroker.
This is bizarre.”
The Webb brothers unloaded, got dressed and kicked
the dirt just to make sure it was moist.
Dark chocolate scars followed a heel drag, showing that
it had in fact rained.
“Let’s mount up.”
“What are you, John Wayne?”
“No, I’m a hissy old man who wants to ride wet dirt for
the first time in months!”
Number 3 chimed in, “Can we start a little slow? My
training has been a little weak.”
Brother 2, a closet trainer, nearly choked. He’s a fitness
geek and the only brother who could still fit in his high
school Levi’s. Myself and #3 pretty much…can’t. Maybe
with liposuction and a lap-band.
“We’ll be gentle on you three; hacking Pro V1s can’t help
your arm pump.”
We three brothers have been riding in this playground for
over 30 years.
Following a moisture outbreak, we’re always stunned
with our ability to retain form.
And, to be honest, when it’s dry, we’re always stunned
with our total lack of skill.
Wet dirt does a lot of things, but the ability to control
your speed is key.
You could have bald balonies and a weak suck wagon
and still moto like Aberg.
On this day we owned it.
We three idiots rode like teenagers, taking chances and
pulling it off. The day was epic.
We saw only one other group of riders when the day
should have been packed.
Don’t know. Don’t care. Don’t feel sorry for my weak
buddies who bailed.
We had a hoot. Sometimes life is grand. ❏