At an undisclosed location there lies an unsuspecting trail with corners ripe for roosting and loamy lips begging for boosting. The air is still until Frixtalon passes, the quiet broken in skidding flashes. The Meta’s brakes appear to be untouched and surely the current Strava time will be crushed. Finding airtime worthy of in-flight meals, landings are soaked up with plush suspension and big wheels. With all that speed, how do Frixtalon’s tires even stay on the bead?