Tara Llanes is the Queen of Comebacks. When you hear her name most people will think of the 4-Cross crash that left her with a complete spinal cord injury, but there is a lot more to what Tara has overcome and what she has done to stay connected to an industry that she calls family.
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There is nothing that ages you more than criticizing the fashion choices of a new generation, and yet there are pages and pages of references to “girl jeans”, emo kids, and the superiority of riding in tights.
I’ve chatted with strangers on climbs and met lifelong friends at the dirt jumps…. I can’t see much excuse to ignore fellow riders. Simple trail etiquette, like yelling out “there are three more”, “on your left”, or “have a good ride” is all that’s needed to connect with people, and more importantly, to not be a dick.
Mountain biking may not be a recognized religion, it has never predicted the end of the world, or as far as I know, been endorsed by Tom Cruise and if there was a single unified mountain bike god, I am fairly certain he wouldn’t kill kittens when you touch yoursel
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LaRae and Donna may seem like your average Mexico living, cruiser bike-riding, margarita-loving, cookie-making moms, but they’re not.
When it comes to losing a favorite trail, don’t be the person who regrets the rides that you didn’t get in on it. Go ride your bike, it’s what Ed would want.
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My local bike shop is the kind of place where everyone knows your name, or some variation of it. They hassle you and high-five you. They give you hugs and lectures about not taking better care of your ride. They are family.
Our industry has worked hard to gain mass appeal and because of that, we produce entertainment for the masses. We should give ourselves the luxury of never being sorry.
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Gore’s Countdown 2.0 GT is a performance waterproof jacket that’s stripped down of any bells and whistles to keep price in check.
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Knog gives the industrial-design love to their smart, new line of locks and commuter lights.
I’ve been off the bike more times than I want to remember and for more reasons than I care to admit. Winters, hurricanes, a couple of douchebag discs
in my back and a general propensity for laziness have all taken their toll on my riding. Throw in the occasional injury and pregnancy, and I’ve been benched enough times to know that getting back on the bike is never quick. Or easy. Or painless.
It is this—the electric crowd so caught up in the glory and the spectacle of
racing, their excitement and enthusiasm so palpable that it makes the hair on your scalp tingle, this roiling party of the sport’s faithful—this is what cements Fort William into legend.