Photo by Dan Barham. Story by Mitchell Scott
There’s something about mud splattering all up on my naked chest. You know, it’s just different if you don’t have a shirt on. It’s like, “Hey, let’s get back to nature. Back when cavemen just went out there and lived all tough and shit.” For sure those guys could tell which way the wind was blowing just by sticking out their chest. I bet they could feel a predator’s breath from a block away. All because they weren’t afraid to connect. I’m sure they’d wake up and say, “Ya know what, umba, gumba, chinglooka, I’m leaving the sabertooth hoody in the cave today. That’s right, I’m going native.”
Me and Jimmy like to get all native when we hit the park. That’s right, we just leave those jerseys back in the Jetta and go totally wild. I can feel the jumps just by the air rushing across my forearms.
Jimmy says his nipples tingle when there’s a big step-down.
When we get to the lift line, and we’re all splattered with mud and sweat, I know all the other guys are intimidated, that they just want to take their shirts and toss them off the chair. And if there were chicks there, I bet you they’d be excited too. Not that we’re hot and covered in mud and all caveman, but because they would love to be connected too.
They just can’t ‘cause their boobs would flop all over.
It helps if you shave your body hair off. Jimmy and I do it only so we can be more a part of the trail. No, we don’t do it to look hot at the beach. And definitely not because it shows off our muscles. Sure, it helps, but man, the feeling of wind, of dust and the sensory overload of flying down the mountain all native, well, I tell you, it’s unlike anything on this earth.
We’ve thought about ditching the shorts and the leg armor, even the helmet and the shoes. Because let’s face it, cavemen didn’t have any of that crap. I’m definitely more hardcore than Jimmy because I don’t wear gloves. You could say I’m more connected to nature for sure. But he’s got a better tan, that’s why he gets to go first.