Back in the day we used to ride trails located southwest of Mandan on a piece of property simply known as "the World." As in, "do you want to go ride around the World?" We'd load up the bikes into the yellow Dakota Cyclery VW bus, or on top of Klemer's Jeep Cherokee, throw a cooler full of Coor's beer in the back, and go have a ride. Afterward, there'd be the obligatory boolshit session about who got jacked on the Ho Chi Minh trail, how many rattlesnakes we bunnyhopped, and why XT was better than XC Pro... After about 9 beers one evening I snapped this photo of Klemer, Loren, and myself. Loren dubbed ii "rubba soul" perhaps due to it's wavy-gravy appearance, or maybe Klemer's muffintop.

I've never forgot the moment, nor the photo. [It ranks up there with the shot of Loren & I in the back of the yellow bus, Loren with notable collarbone trauma, me with blue bandana and hair that resembles a young Waylon Jennings. Ask to see it next time you're at the DC trailer in Medora.] What it all boils down to is that bicycles –and by definition, Loren– have always been the one constant in my life, the constant reminder of good times, good trails, and good friends. I am elated to hear that you are making progress, my friend. Keep on keepin' on.

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