Disclaimer: While it seems somewhat plausible, RFMBA cannot confirm or deny the facts or sequence of events of this account. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
On the eve of Mountain Fair, sometime in the early 90s, a multiple keg party was raging in the meadow near the intersection of Ginormous and the Monte Carlo trail. Nearly 500 revelers consuming over six kegs of Pabst Blue Ribbon and Milwaukee’s Best were building bonfires of wooden pallets, old tires and anything that would burn. Echoing through the valley was Meatloaf’s latest release, Bat Out Of Hell II: Back Into Hell blasting out of giant stereo speakers mounted to two pick ups. It was a wet evening, but the rain didn’t dampen the spirits of the partiers.
After the last cup of PBR was chugged, Burt and Sam, two well inebriated former coal miners, decided to drive to the summit of the Crown in their older brother’s brown Monte Carlo for an after party with a bottle of potato vodka Sam had pilfered from his ex-girlfriend’s glove compartment. In the dark, wet, night the two quickly became bogged down in quicksand-like mud on a ridge line to the west of Ginormous. Sam hopped out of the car to push, while Burt hit the accelerator and rewound the Meatloaf cassette tape to hear “Rock and Roll Dreams Come True” for the umpteenth time.
After two hours of sloppy pushing, and fifteen more listens to “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That), the two collapsed on the roof of the car, exhausted from the efforts of pushing and the effects of the consumed alcohol. The rain subsided and the skies cleared and the night was still as the keg party folks had long gone home to rest up for the next morning’s Mountain Fair.
Sam worried about what his older brother would do when he found out about what they had done with his car. Burt, thirsty for water, could only find the vodka, and chose to drink it to try and quench his thirst.
At that moment, suddenly the black night cracked open into a blinding eyelid piercing light from the sky above. The brothers felt like the light penetrated through their bodies and into their thoughts like a thousand candles burning into their psyche. Not only illuminating them and the surrounding area, but delving deep into their consciousness, memories, hopes and dreams.
The car vibrated, shook, lurched and suddenly began to lift off the ground and out of the mud. The brothers held on to the hood with white knuckle grips. A loud humming started emanating from the light above, growing louder and louder. An overwhelming feeling of confusion entered their minds…
Objects in the Mirror are Closer Than They Appear
What was left of the clouds above parted. Through the blinding light two heavenly figures astride translucent mountain bikes descended from the heavens and floated in front of the Monte Carlo. The car, with the two brothers sitting atop the hood in petrified wonder, hung perilously 50 feet above the knotted scrub oaks below.
The heavenly rider on the left, with golden locks fluttering in a nonexistent wind, looked down upon the brothers and spoke in a soothing, yet dominating tone.
“Behold young brothers,” she declared raising her hands spread wide apart as rays of light flared from her fingers like spokes into the darkened sky. “I am the Goddess of Endless Singletrack!”
To the right of the Goddess of Endless Singletrack, floated another goddess with long auburn hair sparkling in the night like a million stars.
“And I,” cried out the second figure as rolling thunder echoed all around, “I am the Goddess of Jumps and Berms and Rockin’ Flow!”
“We are the Goddesses of RFMBA and we have come from the future,” they sang together in angelic harmony. “The future, where Prince Creek is free of trash, Crown Mountain is a mountain bike Mecca with multiple flow trails descending from the summit to the valleys below.”
Burt took another swig of potato vodka and passed the bottle to Sam. Sam took a drink and gazed upon the beautiful mountain bike Goddesses. Years later, to anyone who would listen, he would drone on about their grandeur. “They floated above us like mountain bike angels,” he would remark. “With titanium chainring earrings and free ride jerseys billowing in the breeze. Each was crowned with lovely tiaras of glistening derailleur pulleys.”
“In the future, mountain bikes have disc brakes, riders ride for miles listening to Meatloaf playlists on AirPods, never needing to rewind,” said the first goddess. “And best of all, cattle never mess up trails and always clean up their own cow pies.”
“Errr…” interrupted the Goddess of Jumps and Berms and Rockin’ Flow. “That third fact isn’t really true. It’s something we are still working on.”
“Yes, I guess so,” added the Goddess of Endless Singletrack. “But don’t be sad. Cuz two out of three ain’t bad.”
“But what about the cow pies?” asked Burt. “You’re goddesses. Can’t you just wave your hand or something and make them all disappear?”
“We would do anything for trails,” sang the goddesses, “But we won’t do that.” Tbe brothers sighed dejectedly.
“There’s more!” cried the Goddess of Endless Singletrack. “But first, you have strayed and are drinking the poison of the fountain of youth. But now you must move on! The future is yours and you and your community will band together to make Prince Creek and the Crown into the greatest single track network possible! Behind you’ll be leaving tire tracks and broken hearts, but in the end, you will succeed!”
“And this car will be the beginning of your journey,” piped in the Goddess of Jumps, Berms and Rockin’ Flow. Adding cryptically, “It’s not the kind of car we envisioned, but there ain’t no Coupe de Ville hiding at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. So this will have to do.”
And then the Goddess of Endless Single Track clapped her hands together with a loud CRACK. The Monte Carlo flew spinning into the valley below, slamming into the earth with a loud thud. The brothers gently floated down next to the ruined car.
“Start with this Monte Carlo stuck in the earth like a beached whale. Add a ramp and you’ll be on your way! Build the trails,” boomed the voice of the Goddess of Endless Singletrack from the sky above. “What you build will turn Prince Creek into a mountain bike paradise.”
“Yes, paradise” proclaimed the Goddess of Jumps and Berms and Rockin’ Flow. “Paradise by the dashboard lights!”
“Let this car be a metaphor of what Prince Creek was and what it will come to be. A place where the community cleaned up the party pits and random campsites. Riding over and overcoming the challenges! Where the community turned Crown Mountain into a place for high school mountain bike teams to train, communities to come together and riders to escape to the happy land of trails.”
“As you ride over this car, be happy that you are part of the movement to pedal over the past. And embrace the beautiful future of the Crown.”
As the two goddesses vanished into the sky, the dawn’s light began to flicker through the gamble oak and into the brother’s astonished eyes. As the sun began to warm their skin, they could faintly hear the angelic voices of the mountain bike goddesses singing in delightful harmony.
Keep on believing, and you’ll discover baby
There’s always something magic
The trails are always true
And when you really, really need them the most
That’s when rockin’ flow trails come true.
For you.
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Epilogue
But Sam and Burt were not alone. The whole Roaring Fork Valley community pitched in to help clean up Prince Creek and make fabulous trails on the Crown.
Currently, the RFMBA community needs help to fund the Crown Royale and Buck Down trails. We encourage you to pitch in. The Ride-A-Thon is ON! Make a pledge. It’s fun! You can make a pledge to people you don’t even know! Challenge your friends! Challenge your enemies! Or just challenge yourself to ride as many miles as you can.
It is rumored that on clear full moon summer nights, the Monte Carlo’s dashboard comes to life. And of course, Meatloaf ‘s Bat Out Of Hell will play into the night to those who will listen.
