|"I'll do anything for my next fix."|
After a long epic ride or even a short local trail, I'll come home and nurse my wounds. Endos, wipeouts, blackberry bushes and even cliffs are all some of the perils of my addiction. I know I am hurting myself, but I just can't stop. I keep telling myself, "I'm young" or, "It won't happen to me, I'm in control." The pain, however, always goes away once I'm back on my bike.
Like all addictions, an addiction to dirt is extremely expensive. I find myself wandering local bike shops drooling, Visa card in hand, as I stare at all the gear I absolutely must have. When I'm not on the trail getting my fix, I have to be buying stuff to get ready for the next high. I've got it bad.
Now I've been told that I'm not just hurting myself, but others close to me as well. I have no time for friends or family (Unless they ride). I prefer to share my high with those around me so I keep a close circle of friends that share my addiction. Others with like minds -- dirty, that is. I also tend drag those "clean" friends down with me. Sure they may not care about dirt now, but a little peer pressure and soon their nostrils, too, are flaring, taking in as much dirt as they can get.
|"The pain always goes away once I'm back on my bike."|
As a dirt addict, I know not everyone is going to agree with my lifestyle. Some see me as a freak and a menace. They call me destructive. These people, thinking they know what is best for everyone, are trying to make my dirt illegal. Dirt used to be readily available. A quick fix could be readily found in practically any neighborhood. But now, it is harder and harder to find. Citizen groups have chased me away. Now I travel farther and farther out into the forests to find my much needed and legal dirt.
Now don't take this as a cry for help. I AM an addict, but I'm proud of it. There are thousand of people just like me and odds are you are one of them. If you are, I'll see you in the dirt.