A lot of people will look at the video below, sigh, and get all misty—maybe emotion will even well up far enough to necessitate a dab of the corner of an eye—thinking about the unconditional loyalty of a childhood pooch long passed and returned to the earth, the bones still hanging frozen in the soil at the base of the fence at Mom and Dad’s old place. No doubt the anonymous quote will come to mind, “I can only hope to be the person that my dog thinks I am.” Or maybe “Dog is my copilot.”
And I’m not going to say I’m unmoved by the smiling features revealed by the wind flattening Little Star’s long hair to his face. I mean, wook at that wittle guy!
But the lion’s share of my core’s soft and snuggly part oozes at the sight of half a dozen dudes hitting the open space on fat tire bikes (hopefully warriors from China found some sweet singletrack on their way to Tibet). I believe that should be the story: a gang on mountain bikes is so irresistible that a dog couldn’t help but follow them for one thousand three hundred fucking miles.
Here’s a new non-dog quote from Andy Beach: “Forward propulsion is the least of the power created by a pack of mountain bikers.”
Stay tiiiight, work together, Pelatronix crew.