Tuesdays with Dirty: Payback

There seems to be a theme around here lately of getting back on the bike after some time off. It happens to the best of us. Life or injuries sometimes have a way of holding you back from doing the only thing you really want to do. This weekend was my turn. I have been off the bike for about 3 weeks now, sidelined with some sore knees, and Friday night started my come back. A little BMX street session, some cross country singletrack riding, and I even had a chance to open up the old full suspension rig on one of my favorite sections of trail. I have been bonking in the heat, getting sore legs, crashing and getting scraped up, drinking beers at trail heads… It has been nothing short of awsome.

Yesterday was by far the coolest day of them all. Some friends of mine had been out kayaking a river for the past 4 days and needed to be picked up out in the middle of nowhere.  I have been extracted countless times by my awesome network of friends and never had the opportunity to return the favor. Now was my chance, and I was more than happy to be of service.

loaded up the truck with the fatbike, a 30 rack of Tecate, and 2 large pizzas and set out into the desert to find my friends. Two hours and a couple dozen dirt road miles later I found them. The looks on their faces when they saw the cooler of beer and pizza were priceless. That made the drive worth it right there. Since they were ahead of schedule, I didn’t have much time to ride. But I did pedal around a bit and it looked like this:

fat tires and dry lakes

Somehow we managed to load all the boats plus my bike in the back of one truck and we made sure to empty the cooler a bit. You know, to help out the gas mileage.

truck full of fun

It has been a fun filled past couple of days and there hasn’t been any travel required. I am happy to be back on the bike and riding at full gas again. You really don’t know how much you miss it until you can’t do it. And on that note, I think I’m going for a ride right now. Keep it dirty…

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About dirty biker

I am a fan of singletrack, singlespeeds, single malt, and single women. Tempe, Arizona, USA

22 thoughts on “Tuesdays with Dirty: Payback

  1. Is that Horseshoe Reservoir on the lower Verde? I’ve floated that piece before, good times for sure. Pizza and cold beer taste 500% better after days out on the water/pretty much any backpacking trip.

  2. spores sporing in the desert. lame asS shit. please stay down south and avoid spreading your desertsporepatheticculture abroad (and up north of the Mogollon rim). PIZZA AND BEERS TASTE MUCH BETTER ON ALPINEPORCH, you wanna-be-sumthin-you’re-not.

    NUKE PHX. LONG LIVE ECONO-ROCK IN FLAGSTAFFTOWN!

  3. Dear Spore,

    Go spore yourself in spore town. Spore! Your spore spore is sporing the spore, and desert spores can spore the spore out of the tightest spore.

    You’re a lame-ass spore with a spore up his spore and should go spore yourself with a spore in the back of a Chevy Spore. Don’t forget to wear a spore and spore up before you take that huge spore up the spore, you lame ass spore!

    They have an awesome spore on spore show in Mexico, you spore. Why don’t you get a job shoving your spore in a wild animal’s spore while other spores watch you spore? You fat bike spore!

    Nuke spore! Long live spore pizza and spore beer and sporing myself on the porch at Alpine Spore!

  4. Good Lord I was reading Dirty’s post and thinking “only thirty beers?” and eating my breakfast pizza and thinking “that desert looks pretty awesome” and thinking “I gotta get my kayak on” and washing the pizza down with my first beer of the day and thinking “I need to visit those guys out in AZ” and then some FUCKING TEENAGE-BRAINED DOLTS have got to come shit in the punch bowl. So now even though it is a beautiful morning and the birds are singing I ain’t in my prayerful joyous mood anymore. Now I’m just an over the hill old drunk-ass bastard living out his pathetic life in a fucked-up Florida trailer park.

    You fucking skank-ass cowards. Identify yourselves. Wait, it’s better if you don’t. I could hitchhike to fucking Arizona in 36 hours and there would be a wailing and a gnashing of teeth and your crack whore mothers would have to do donkey shows and pull double duty on the other side of the tracks for the next three days to put together the money to have your sorry asses cremated and then flushed down the toilet in the Greyhound Station in Williams.

    You little cocksuckers owe me one Good Mood. Don’t make me come collect.

    Yer buddy, tj

  5. Wow, unless I’m missing some really awesome inside joke, the two jokers above have about as much to offer a wonderful town like Flag as the shit covered hairs on my ass.

    Grow the fuck up and get a job.

    If it is a joke, then ignore my comments and carry on.

    Dirty, thanks, you’re a better friend than most could wish to have.

  6. It’s an ongoing theme that originated with the softcore FLG dirtbags. They think they’re the broshit & wish for a big microphone, but they ain’t got one. Since DC has had a brief history in FLG over the years, FLG was in the scene. Not anymore. DC is AZ as fuck, housed out of Tempe. The FLG boys caint handle a Spore claiming to be better dirtbags than them, so they flame it up here where it’s a nice and safe distance. long as it’s on . Of course, one night, Dirty was in FLG and called the bluff, punched one of them. That FLG bro Stfu real quick. He fought back like a pillow case.

    And therein lies the truth about it. Anytime there’s an opportunity to troll, they hit the comments. FLG Bro’s are the origin. That goes for the flames on d2′s posts, mine (when I did post) and dirty’s as well. Anymore, i could be anyone who I suppose. That’s the cost of having unregulated comments on the site.

  7. I for one love those guys. I don’t even have to try to be cool on this site. I just say anything, wait for those guys to show up, and I automatically look awesome. They do wonders for my self-esteem.

  8. Don’t spores reproduce asexually? Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

  9. …bravo, monsieur le gnomer…“he fought back like a pillowcase…”…that caused me to literally ‘lol’ several times on reading it…

    …deetwo is absolutely correctomundo…those assclowns are ‘sporific’ in raising self esteem all round…not that deetwo really needs it – the man is pretty fucking talented in my book (literally)…& hey, it’s not even my battle but when guys are THAT fucktardish, i feel like i should stand & applaud their refined idiocy…

    …they even make joe & i look like gandhi & mother teresa at a tea social…no easy feat, that…

  10. Gnome, thanks for the explaino. Whole thing sounds gay. Not “lame” gay but “guys enjoying being fucked in the ass” gay.

  11. I’ve found that people who believe that they are “hardcore”, are generally pretty lame. Much more talk about how epic their life/ride/bike was than actually getting out and doing anything. “Hardcore” like a nickname, isn’t something you bestow upon yourself. The Flag crew that seems to have an obsession with D2/Dirty/Gnome sure do act like a bunch of wankers.

  12. Personally I’ve never claimed to be anything but an old, slow, soft little ball of floof.

  13. I really want to go ride in FLG now. I’m fat, slow, ride a cross bike and I’m from SoCAL. I just want someone to say shit so I can wave hi and say “thanks for the encouragement. Sorry about your penis.” And keep sweating and pedaling.

  14. “…’thanks for the encouragement. Sorry about your penis.’” Might use that the next time I get honked and yelled at for the unpardonable faux pas of being on “their” road while riding my bike. Wonder if I should throw in a wave and a big ol’ grin?

    It’s been that kind of day.

  15. There is a legit FLG hardcore cycling origin. The chaps who wrought the history of that are known as the Mutants. It was back in the 80′s and 90′s in which the likes of Steve Garro, Rex, Yod, others. They pushed the envelop of dirtbag cycling. They lived as they were; poor cycling youth. Dedicated. They toured then like we all tour now, but with less comfort and less tech. I’m confident to say that during their prime, they traveled unbelievably far and layed the foundation for the fantasy epic rides we consider today. But with this blog, clingers have had a chance to speak up, and try to bestow their awesomeness from years – most of them – forgotten by most who were never there – that are now rarely remembered. It’s this dichotomy that is sad. On one had, we have the origins of “bikepacking” and all that; we have personalities who are instrumental in our own development. But then, the never-haves who think they were, or might still be, if given the chance, still beating the Bro Drum of supremacy via this blog’s comments. What can be said of that but sad.

    Show me your hate through the lens and the words of your last ride, and every ride after that.

  16. Gnome…hell yes! I am picking up what you are putting down here with 2 hands while scraping as much of it as ‘I can into a pile with my feet so as to facilitate further picking up.

    Not spilling ANY.

    Hell yes! on the showing and the telling thru the medium that’s truest to those of us that know- a ride. Spring has sprung, my injury is healing, and I got no hate to show you, but I feel sure that some love and RESPECT will shine even more brightly. Ride your bike(s, people. Close your mouths and breathe through your noses. Smell it? You smell that? I’m smelling it.

  17. Enjoy dancing with Spring while she’s visiting because I’m looking forward to welcoming her back home downunder in a few months.