Friday, June 09, 2006

Ok, A little bit of history for you people not fully in the High 'Zine 'know'.



















High 'Zine was in fact, originally, before, and previous to this, supposed to be a 'real' magazine (hence the, errr, 'Zine part), the sort you take to the toilet (with the exclusion of WAP toys). So much so, that there is even a front cover, contents page, and about 15 pages of articles and photo's sitting on my pc waiting to be offered to the real world, from a small number of contributors.

One such contributed article I never got around to prettying up was by the loveable 'Hairy Dave', and it is in-fact wonderful, so I present it to you here and now; Enjoy..

Life as a Mountain Biker Without a Sense of Smell...


















Mountain Biking: Another Perspective

I have been asked to write this article in the interests of equality. It proves that people of all physical abilities can be involved in our beautiful sport. Obviously I can walk and all that, or I wouldn’t be able ride, would I? But I have a different crippling disability. I can’t smell.

Think about it for a moment. When you line yourself up for the eight pack at your local trails, preparing yourself both mentally and physically for the exertion of the upcoming airtime, and you suddenly catch a whiff of the wildflowers in the meadow. Or, if your trails are in Manchester, the smell of the waste from the curry’n’kebab shop. Whichever. Anyway, in this moment your being is transformed; you become connected with your surroundings, co-existent with the world around you. You are at one with the trails. It feels wonderful, doesn’t it? It is both liberating and involving, with the freedom of expression but the safety of a visceral connection, a feeling of belonging.

Now imagine me. I sit there, men
tally preparing myself for the upcoming effort of the trails, totally alone and with no sense of ‘oneness’. I must battle the jumps alone, for I have no way of connecting with them. I must wage my own war, and therefore it becomes an epic struggle of wit against brute dirt.

Which is why I’m not as good at dirt jumping as you. So next time you see me, or anyone else, struggling through a tricky set of trails, don’t leap to criticise. Stop for a minute and imagine how it must feel to be alone in the world. Maybe you’ll think twice before laughing at someone’s riding ability next time.

Dave

p.s. It can be good though. If someone lets out a disgusting fart at the trails I don’t even notice.

1 comment:

Jules said...

Aaaaah. The mysteries of highzine unveiled at last.

My life is now complete.