It’s been another of those weeks where, to paraphrase a line from The Big Liebowski, “Sometimes you bite the bar, sometimes the bar bites you…” In the case of this week, the bar definitely did the biting. We did, however, get some word from our Lost Soul Surfer of Wednesdays, Mark Weir. In keeping with the theme of this El Nino winter, he’s been taking product testing to some uncomfortable limits on his private patch of soggy Novato turf:

Bear in mind, this grassy carnage has all taken place on PRIVATE land, with permission of owner, so any of my localism fueled rages from recent past blogs don’t really apply here. Apparently he’s been doing a whole lot of off-camber riding. So much so that some of his recent victims riding buddies mentioned that riding with him involved crashing every 20 or 30 feet while trying to point their bikes across impossibly greasy side-hills. Something to do with checking out how tire edging knobs hold in field conditions… Anyway, Weir also had some downright poetic words of winter:

I guess I would like to talk about different stuff, not just about racing bikes and epic hard rides.

I would like to talk about the battle to never want to lose the love for the ride.

Riding bikes is the first thing on my mind and the last thing before I go to sleep. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember.

I hate that maybe what I really do may not be that interesting and carry enough press to keep the dream alive.

I’m not saying I have had a toughest life around. I have lost touch with people because I picked my bike first. I stopped riding with people because they did not emit the vibe I was looking for from a riding partner.

Since my home burned down it has rained almost everyday. The rain has a way to make you feel heavy in the mouth pulling the corners down and making you hide out.

I have been riding in that rain everyday. It seems to be the only thing that keeps me awake.

How could I love my family as much as I do without riding my bike this much? That’s a question I don’t like to think about and it sounds ridicules.

I feel like my addictive personality comes through worse everyday. It would seem that there are a lot more people like me.

Maybe one day I will be able to pluck these thoughts that bounce around in my head. Mostly they move to fast and I can only catch a couple at a time.

Some times when I wake up my mind sounds like rave music. I hear different thoughts at a million miles an hour.

When this happens I can not focus on anything. That’s when I get on my bike and float the valves till they go away.

As corny as it all sounds. Riding my bike is not my job, it’s not my hobby, or a vain conversation. It is the thing that makes me sane. My bike is a tool that preserves life.

Maybe the next step is a live show on the blog. Like talk radio. The bike version of Doc Phil.

Would anyone tune in? Who knows??

That seems like a pretty good note on which to sail into the sunset of the coming weekend. May all your trails be sketchy and off-camber…