I’ve got a favor to ask. Or, more accurately, as my 10-year-old son’s research assistant, I have a favor to ask. He’s working on a science project on reaction times, and he needs more data.

So I’m asking you to conduct a little experiment and send me the results. It’s easy, and it’s super-fun. Oh, yes. Super-duper-fun.

I worry that I may be overselling the “fun” aspect of this. Perhaps I should also emphasize that today’s Banjo Brothers Bike Bag Giveaway is based on participation in this experiment. Specifically, I’ll be selecting (at random) a winner from the people who send in information. The more people you collect info on, the greater your chances of winning.

How Fast Are You?

Here’s what you need:

• A ruler
• A table and chair
• A helper

Here’s what you do:

1. Sit with your forearm on the surface of the table, with your writing hand extending over the edge.
2. Have your helper position the ruler with the zero end between, but not touching, your thumb and fingers.
3. Have your helper release the ruler without warning.
4. As soon as the ruler is released, catch it as quickly as possible between your thumb and fingers.
5. Repeat the process, noting your best effort of the two.
6. Send me—either as a comment or as email—the following:

·         Your age (it’s OK to just note “adult” for adults)

·         Your gender

·         Your best distance (rounded to the centimeter or half-inch)

Then do this same test on every single person you know, and send me their information, too. Make it an obsession. And while you’re at it, be sure to do this test on plenty of females. Looking at the results my son’s collected so far, I can see he’s shy around the ladies.

In the interest of full disclosure, I caught the ruler at 5 inches. That makes me faster than most, but not the fastest. The triathlete down the street beat me. Grrrr.

Thank you for your cooperation, and for your indulgence as I hijack my blog in the interest of my son’s grades.

A few days ago, Bob and I rode the Crop Circles / Mr. DNA / Tapeworm trail system. It was raining lightly (yes, even though it was spring in Seattle), so the roots, rocks, and wooden stunts were slippery.

Early in the ride, we came to a seesaw. This one was taller and shorter than the seesaw I had ridden the last time we had been in the area, the board was narrower, and it was made of smooth wood. Also, the approach was downhill and around a bend.

I admit it: I was scared.

I approached the seesaw too slowly. By the time I was about halfway up, my front wheel was wobbling. I nearly stalled out, and my front wheel rolled off the right side of the seesaw.

This, as you may expect, was not a desirable situation.

From a height of probably five feet, I fell over the front of my bike. Ordinarily, I’d put my hands out to catch my fall, but this time I didn’t. I pulled my arms in toward my chest, and landed in a nice forward roll, finishing in a sitting position, astounded that I was not hurt even a tiny bit. I sat for a moment, stunned at my good fortune.

Bob shouted, as I sat there, dropped his bike, and ran over. “Are you OK?” he asked.

I admitted that to my amazement, I was just fine.

Bob then started laughing, recounting how the fall looked from his perspective, describing the contributing factors to my crash, and how surprised he was that I hadn’t snapped a wrist on that fall.

It was at this moment that I realized the reason I really like riding with Bob. He knows proper crash etiquette.

And Then There’s Brad

Bob’s behavior stands in marked contrast to how another friend of mine reacted after I crashed. Let’s just call him “Brad” (because his name is in fact actually Brad). He and I were riding a goat trail coming down from Jacob’s Ladder, which is part of the Hog’s Hollow network. I had never ridden this descent before, and so was surprised when it suddenly terminated with a three foot dropoff onto a dirt road. I flipped over my handlebars and landed on my back. It hurt. A lot.

Brad, naturally, took this opportunity to immediately begin laughing his head off. Without asking if I was OK. Without saying, “Sorry I didn’t warn you about how this trail ends.” Without any clue that several years later, I’d be tearing him a new one in the most public way I could imagine.

Proper Crash Etiquette

So, let this be a lesson to you. If you don’t follow the rules of Crash Etiquette, you may someday reap the consequences (Have I mentioned that this is the same Brad who bailed on his last lap when we were racing the 24 Hours of Moab as a 2-person team, and then didn’t even stick around to see me finish when I did his lap for him? Yep, he just packed up his gear and went home while I was on the course.).

Luckily, the rules of Crash Etiquette are quite simple. Most anyone can follow this simple five-step procedure:

1. At the moment of impact, express astonishment and dismay.  The best possible noise you can make when another person crashes is the noise you imagine yourself making if you were to have that selfsame crash. But an audible gasp or “Whoah!” will do fine.
2. Immediately check to see if the crasher is OK. Saying “Are you OK?” is the correct way to do this. If a pool of blood or a compound fracture is evident, you should still ask the question.
3. Recount the incident. While the crasher is collecting his or her wits, describe the accident, in as dramatic fashion as you possibly can. This will help the crasher feel like the pain is worth it. Anything for a good story.
4. Once the crasher stands up, you are allowed to laugh. But not before then. And if the crasher is crying, you are not allowed to laugh. However, you are allowed to pretend the crasher is not crying, awkwardly avoiding looking at the crasher’s face.
5. Speculate. Spend a few minutes describing the root causes for the crash. Slippery rock, mossy root, off-camber trail, and scree are all excellent reasons.

Most of you will learn this procedure quickly and will have no trouble with this important process.

Brad, you may want to print it and tape it to your bike.

PS: Obviously I’m not writing as regularly as I usually do. This doesn’t mean I’m getting ready to abandon this blog. I’m just really busy trying to get my house ready to sell, wrapping up my old job, getting ready for my new job, and so forth. I’ll write as often as I can, and hope to get back to a regular schedule really really soon now.

Yesterday I accepted a new job, which means I’ll be leaving my old job. Which means I’ll be moving back to Utah.

Last night I also got a good night’s sleep — the first I’ve had in about four days. I swear, I can deal with just about any amount of stress if I’ve got a reasonable level of sleep.

And if I’ve had a good night’s sleep and a good burrito for lunch, I’m basically invincible. Increasingly fat, but invincible.

The Reasons

There are a lot of factors behind this change, but I’m just going to list the ones that are Fat Cyclist-relevant:

• El Azteca: There is nothing in the world quite like their Chicken Chipotle burrito.
• Tibble Fork: I missed riding it last year. I don’t want to go another year without riding that incredible, painful trail at least once a week.
• Lone Star Taqueria: Best fish tacos I’ve ever had.
• The Alpine Loop: The most beautiful, punishing ride you can do in 2:08 (on a really good day).
• Mi Ranchito: Stay simple at this place: Chicken enchiladas.
• Hog Hollow, Frank, Squaw Peak / Hope Campground, South Fork, Grove Canyon, Joy, Mud Springs, etc. Is there a better place in the world to live and ride than in Utah County, Utah? Well, maybe one could make an argument for Grand Junction, CO. Maybe there are other places. But I miss riding my home trails.
• The Core Team: It’ll be great to ride with Dug, Brad, Rick, and Kenny again. All I’ve got to do is get Bob to come back to UT and get Rocky to move to UT and the core team will be complete. Maybe I can get Nick to move to UT too.
• Moab: It’s a three hour drive away.
• Gooseberry: Really, no one state has any business having this much great mountain biking, but there you go.
• Botched: OK, I’ll be honest. This is the real reason I’m coming back. I want to ride with Botched.

One to Go.

So now we get to start selling the house, looking for a house, and convincing the kids how much fun it will be to leave all their friends and one of the most beautiful neighborhoods in the world.

And then there’s one other thing — maybe — which I’ll find more about sometime soon.

Tomorrow I Will Be Funny.

No, really. I will. I’ll be hilarious.