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OK, I'll admit it. I'm totally distracted by the several days of Le Tour De coverage that had built up on our DVR while we were away in Vermont. So what I have for you is a few photos of the Warren Fourth of July Parade.
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Oh, and this horrible photo of a "feature" up on Perry Hill that almost ate me alive. I found that while riding in "The Valley." i.e., the Waitsfield area, that nearly everything was rideable, not too much scariness. I mistakenly applied the same attitude to Perry Hill and, during a brief moment when I was in front of George, I took the stupid line off of a big, honkin' rock and ate it, BIG TIME. It was kind of a roll down into three steep stair-step type dealies. The last one sent me ass over coffee pot. I don't normally go down so hard, so the getting up, pulling mulch out of my helmet was a novel experience for me. I was always tell other people, especially kids, "if you're not crashing, you're not trying hard enough." However I rarely practice what I preach.
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Another dumb-ass move I pulled during my second Valley ride was running out of water. Jeff had told me tales of drinking out of sketchy streams in dehydrated desperation. I was there. It was 95° and I was looking for unattended garden hoses to prey upon. I was saved from possibly getting tazed by an angry homeowner when I saw a woman out watering the plants on her deck. I rolled off of the dusty, exposed climb I was churning up and rolled into her yard, ringing my bell in an attempt to appear as benign as possible. After telling me I was nuts (she was too polite to tell me I was a total dumb-ass) she kindly filled my bottles with icy cold water. She then proceeded to treat me like a lost child, trying to point me in the most direct way, back to town. Maybe I looked worse than I thought. I listened to her directions, and then turned back up the baking climb, not in the direction of town, but in the direction of more sweet trails and more inevitable dehydration.
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Craziness is afoot, I gotta get some sleep before it hits.
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