You have a secret power. Look around yourself when in a public setting. How many of those jokers got a secret power? Exaaaaactly.
“But wait, Creep, what’s this secret power bullshit?” I’d be assed if I were to openly state this harsh Truth. Duh. You got a Party Log. Let’s not get bogged down in particulars- it can be a Party Cactus or Party Rock or Party Trash Can Lid, even- it’s whatever your local offers, and it’s all the same to me. Party Log. It’s your own secret fort, built of sweet trails and packing out a heavy load so you can get moderately loaded. Share a Good time with your friends. Nice work, person. High five.
I write this in memoriam to one of my favoritest Party Logs, on account of it has rotted almost clean away. I first came across this log because it lies on the hidden side of a natural stopping spot on one of my favoritest local trails. From it’s resting place, there’s an unimpeded view and plenty of comfortable shade. It was a fine place to sit and take it all in. Totally hidden from the trail itself, and unseeable from any houses or roads, it was a quiet bit of peace. It’s been 10 or so years I’ve been visiting this place. There were periods I’d hit it daily for weeks, and there were months that would pass between sittings. That steady old bench was always there.
It’s the 2nd time in my tenure at this trail system that a Party Log has literally rotted out from under me. The 1st was on a whole other side of things, and it was a real fine place as well. This log was my favorite, though. Anyhow. It’s a function of time- as Hank Jr tells us, all your rowdy friends will settle down one way or another, given enough time.
Look at this:
RIP Party Log. You were a real Good Time.
The empty bottle and the the empty 12er, it’s clear enough. The rope? I forget where it was found- some trail ride- it’s present here because there was a blow-down Dirty and I ended up blocking and tackling off the trail a short ways away and we stashed it under the log. We were at the log because the trailwork was done and we wanted to celebrate. That’s the type of thing Party Logs are for.
Last evening, I rode through looking for a beer or three and that was what was waiting for me. The log has been nearly gone for longer than I’ve wanted to face. So I said thank you to the log, and packed out the last of the (now) trash on my townie, because that’s the bike I happened to be on when I was struck with the urge to ride up into the sunset, and that’s what townies (or any bike) are for.
I am not so sad about it. I will put another bench of some sort in the same spot. It’s too good not to.
The Party Log is dead. Long live the Party Log.by