Russell, Scott, and I had planned on riding one afternoon on the greenbelt in Austin back in the early 90's. Russell was riding his MOM'S bike (an old bianchi I think with suntour friction shifters) and Scott was on his new Haro Escape that his wife got him for Christmas. I was riding the REAL mountain bike. A Nishiki Ariel LTD with shimano dx components and a new suspension fork. The night before I rode around my culdesac clicking into and out of my new Wellgo clipless pedals. I thought to myself that I had the pedaling thing down. No worries. I was telling- okay, bragging- to the guys that the pedals actually help you control the bike more and that unclipping was easier than pulling your feet out of loose toe clips. Then I told Russell that he needed to upgrade bikes and to give his bike back to his mom. We all laughed and started off on the ride. As one starts down the single track of the greenbelt in Austin, one will notice the hardpack dirt and an occasional rock. I never paid much attention to the rocks until further down the trail when they become numerous and sharp edged. I was pedaling along when my bike stopped. Don't know why. Don't know how. The damn thing just stopped. I remember trying in vain to un clip. My body twisted. My knees turned and twisted. My feet didn't move a bit. I fell to my left and then I saw it. It was a mountain. It was huge. It was a four sided rock that stuck out of the ground like a one foot high flat topped pyramid. The flat spot was about 1 1/2 x 1 1/2 inches. I hit it. I hit it hard and I can remember my eyes opening wide because of the pain that shot through my body. I hit my T'aint spot. T'aint my butthole. T'aint my testicles. It was right in between. To this day I think I'd have rather taken a swift kick in the juevos than the jolt I received in the t'aint spot. I remember hearing some giggling. Russell and scott were trying to hold back their laughter. One asked if I was okay. I said yes. Then I asked if they had seen what had happened. They said that they did. I told them that it was a shame because I would have to kill them because I couldn't have any witnesses. To this day when Russell (aka CPT NEMO) and I remind each other of stupid stuff we've done, I remind him of all the motorized vehicles he has sunk and he reminds me of the pedals.
I think he wins the arguement every time.
