Exploited?

The world is filled with odd and unusual offerings, many of which don't make sense; Elvis painted on velvet, James Brown lyrics, Hunter S. Thompson after three drinks, and our very own Gar Gulmanuts. We dare you to find value or meaning in anything Gar writes, but feel free to say his name as fast as you can.

Up until last week, my buddy Ray only rode a bicycle when he had to, which was mainly just when his truck was smoking from somewhere other than the driver's seat or his drivers license was revoked for doing something fun. That was before I showed Ray what shuttling was all about and planted the seeds of a born-for-the-first-time mountain bike rider.

Some people might say that I just wanted to use Ray as the other half of a shuttle. They would say that the only reason I even called him is because I don't know anyone else with a pickup and that we're only friends because Ray lets me borrow his chain saw. I sure hope none of those people talk to Ray.

I told Ray to come over to my apartment with his bike (and his truck) on Saturday. He showed up at noon and put a cigarette out on the truck's rust-spotted door handle before leaning out the window to holler at me.

"So what're we doing anyway?"

"We're going to the top of a steep hill and then we're going to ride down it."

"Not interested," he said, reaching for the truck's shift lever.

"It's all downhill," I promised. "We'll shuttle the bikes to the top--it won't even really be like riding a bike. It's called freeriding. Saw it in a magazine."

"Not interested," he repeated.

"I'll bring beer."

"Well why the hell didn't you just say so?"

Ray was in. I loaded my bike in the back of his truck and we were off, puttering up the road that leads to the top of Faith Hill--that's the big hill just outside of town named after the country singer with the same name.

The road to the top of Faith Hill is long, so Ray cracked open a beer and drank it.

"It would be a waste of a beer if I didn't drink a second beer to get at least a two-beer buzz going," he said, crumpling the emptied beer can.

A few miles later, Ray pitched the second empty on the floor.

"I better drink a third because otherwise I'd be wasting a good two-beer buzz that could otherwise roll nicely into a three-beer buzz," he explained.

Ray popped open a fourth can of beer as he pulled the truck to a stop on top of Faith Hill. A bunch of guys wearing workout clothes were coming up the trail and they looked tired and not very happy so Ray tried to cheer them up by talking about this shuttle thing that we were doing.

"Best part is you don't got to pedal at all if you don't want," he said, waving his beer around for emphasis. "You just go down a hill and it's still a sport. Maybe you guys have heard of freeriding?" The workout clothes guys looked kind of pissed off and didn't answer. Ray started singing the lyrics to an old song with the word freeride in it, but then he forgot the words and just jammed out on air guitar until the workout guys took off.

We took our bikes out of the truck and rode off full-speed down Faith Hill. Ray was pretty buzzed so he was riding over anything that could make a person fall. Lots of rocks and logs and several discarded appliances took him down, but on the bright side, we found the refrigerator that disappeared at his last keg party.

At the bottom of the hill, Ray and his bike were pretty trashed and we were completely lost. Ray was starting to get cranky when we saw a house with people milling around in the backyard and decided to ask for directions.

It turns out they were having a pool party at the house, so Ray introduced himself to the ladies and stripped down to his briefs to show them how to do a proper cannonball. Just about then some old guy came over and collared me and asked what in hell we're doing at his daughter's birthday party and why the hell is Ray in his underwear?

Ray started talking real fast and next thing you know we're being escorted to the front door with the old guy's vice-grip hands digging into our arms. Ray just kept talking and explaining how we got lost and separated from our landscaping truck and could he give us a lift back to the top of Faith Hill?

As it turned out, the old guy was also a mountain biker and was willing to give us a ride back up the hill, but not before telling us how stupid we are. We agreed with him and grabbed a few slices of birthday cake before leaving for a different kind of free-riding with the old guy. I didn't mention to Ray that this isn't how a shuttle is supposed to work, I figured what he didn't know wouldn't hurt me.

After the Faith Hill ride, Ray started taking more interest in mountain bikes and even talked about riding them up the hill like the guys in the workout clothes. And so it was that another mountain biker was born, but Ray's still mostly interested in freeriding, and we'll probably do the same ride again next week. Bet that old guy will be surprised.