May 2007

“Taco” as defined by Zapata Espinoza

Deep in the San Fernando Valley heartland where Tomac got his start, Pat and I had reached the end of the Desoto trail and turned around for the rip roaring, sinewy, singletrack descent. As we moto'd along I kept hearing this incessant screeching from Pat's Grafton brakes. Finally I stopped and told him, "Dude, you have to lay off the binders. Flow with the trail & make it happen." Once going again, I took my own best advice, dropped Pat, and started flowing...up until a small g-out gully. Wham, bam thank you ma'am, the front wheel slammed into the opposing bank and presto - I had a 28 spoke Mavic taco to deal with.

Sixty or so miles to the east, there is a small eating establishment called Super Mex. The # 3 chicken taco and enchilada plate was my fave post-ride feast. Hoisting the taco & creaking my head and neck sideways to bite heartily, I'd strategically swirl my upper body to direct the steady flow of grease that flowed out the bottom to lube up the pile of rice and beans sitting on the corner of the plate. It gets no better. Amen.