whee
I am all agrin. On a murky November afternoon, having failed to get out of bed early, failed to prepare any clothing, failed to get the bikes out and sort them out the night before, failed to plan any kind of destination or route to ride and generally failed, I pootled off down the road on the Solitude and found some fun singletrack less than a mile from my doorstep.

Less than a mile! (just, as the crow flies) - I've been living here for over two years, almost all that time I've had a perfectly functioning mountain bike (or two) somewhere about the house. For some of that time I've spent bored office hours surfing mountain biking forums ("fora"?), much of the rest of it I've worked with and around mountain bikes and talked and dreamed of the next available opportunity to just get out and ride bikes off road through some countryside.

And now I've found some within very easy cycling distance. Not a huge amount, more of an hour-or-two play area, but nevertheless a chance to Ride A Mountain Bike Properly.

I'm back, front tyre punctured by a thorn, merino soggy, bike smelling slightly of leaf mulch and possibly also of something else I've rolled through, and grinning like an idiot.

About flippin' time.