Shawnworks > Shawnworks's Blog Posts > GS Trophy, Part 3 - The Hill of Death

August 14, 2008 18:30

(This is the Third in a multi-part series. To read the first, go to http://www.bmwxplor.com/riders/ShawnWorks/blog/show/928)

Day one complete. EXHAUSTING! Ug.

It had been a rigorous day at RawHyde Adventures. Jim Hyde and his staff worked us over, drilling in the basics of off-road riding technique into our cerebrums. I was told repeatedly to ‘loosen up,’ and I could see why. My hands were achy and swollen. My gloves were spackled in rubber from the handgrips. ‘You should never wear out a pair of gloves or grips,” I remembered Jim saying. Clearly I had more work to do.

I couldn’t say whether I was improving. Each lesson was hard when I began, hard when I finished. Dirt still looked ominous. Was I gonna be able to do this?

“Good job today, Shawn!” Jim offered, emphasizing it with an almost-too-hard slap on the back. “How ya feeling??”

“Good Jim, great! Good times!” I wasn’t certain if I was telling the truth. But no sense making that judgment during casual conversation.

But Jim wasn’t fooled. “I know it’s tough the first day my friend, but I’ve been watching you, you’re right on track!” He lifted his arm, pointing. “See that hill? By this time tomorrow you’ll be able to cruise up and down that hill!”

I looked. No hill.

I looked harder. Nothing.

Was this some sort of test? Was Jim referring to the ‘proverbial hill of subconscious limitation?’ Or maybe the country air had finally taken its toll on the old coot. Poor Jim. So young to be suffering dementia.

I mocked confirmation. “Well yeah, Jim, that’s quite a big hill! Looking forward to tackling…”

...Uh oh.

He couldn’t possibly be serious.

”...You’re kidding, right?”

It was a hill, the way Titanic was a boat. It towered over us, a massive, abysmal precipice stretching endlessly to the heavens. Strewn about were broken bikes and tombstones, final resting for all who had dared make the trek. In the distance, a widow sobbed and wailed.

“Awww it’s not so bad!” Another back slap. “By the time we’re done with you, that hill won’t stand a chance!”

“Yeah… We’ll see.” My stare continued. It was the hill of death. Jim was trying to kill me.

“How about we set you up with a hot shower and a beer? And not in that order?”

With a tug Jim nudged me toward the food shack. I shuffled along beside him, a Dead Man Walking.

(Stay tuned for part IV)

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