Like bringing a knife to the proverbial gun fight.

Last Sunday I broke out the mountain bike for only the fourth time this year. Went out on a whim with a buddy I've never rode with on the dirt before. We met up at the trail head with his friend and when I pulled out my trusty hardtail from the back of the car, they both looked at me like I had a set of tits growing out of my back.

"What's that thing?"

"My mountain bike."

"Have you ridden out here before?"

"A couple times."

"You're insane man, insane."

Made it down just fine with the only crash being the sort that only I could pull off. Flying down the single track, I approached a boulder that occupied the better half of the trail and I told myself "now don't be a dumb ass and run into the giant rock."

So I just went in the other direction and literally rode off the trail and had a nice flight over the bars.

Good times.