” The Autumn Weather…….turns the leaves to flame.”

” It’s a long long way.  From May to December.  But the days grow short, when you reach September.”

Kurt Weill

These haunting words from Kurt Weill in his famous ballad not only speak to the season change, but also to the seasonal changes in our lives as we age.  I have always enjoyed the fall because of the spectacular foliage and cooler weather.  Sweaters, fires, Halloween, Thanksgiving are all special to me and so important to take in every year.  As the masses head to the gyms because of the time change, my crowd is a bit different in that we embrace the shortened days and time change with our lights on mountain bike rides and trail runs.  Back in the day, I first started to ride a mountain bike in the fall.  It was a great departure from road riding and the solace of the woods which I have always embraced, is wonderful from the vantage point of a mountain bike.  No cars, technical challenges that keep your attention and allow your mind relief from the rigors of the day.  But what to do as the days grew short?  Lights!!  We have been through the evolution of lighting technology to the point where it is not necessary to purchase a light like we did back in the day that costs $300.00. Sure, there are lights that cost that much and even more today but with the technology coming from overseas with LED, the cost of really superb lighting systems can be attained for under $100.00.  night ride october (2 of 1)

As I have aged, I have migrated from the competitive mindset to the “enjoyment of the ride” phase of my life.  Used to be that we all did night rides as training for the now basically defunct 24 Hour races.  But the joy of night riding is now even more pleasurable for me as I have time to enjoy the rides versus the 4:30 AM pressure rides of the past when my boy was involved in sports.  I get some hall passes now as an empty nester and to take in the woods at night in a relaxed manner is a truly different experience.  Close your eyes and imagine what we are experiencing today.  The musty smell of fallen leaves on the trail.  That smell of a distant wood fire.  The distinct smell of a passing buck as you eyeball a 6 pointer almost face to face on the trails.  Oftentimes I turn my lights out in the middle of a night ride to experience the silence of the woodlands.  Early fall, the crickets are my only companions as I gaze up into the clear night and see multitudes of stars peeking through the canopy of the rapidly changing treeline.  When I ride with friends, it is really fun to watch the line of lights light up the trails.  The friendships. The accountability of the weekly night rides extending what has been an absolutely spectacular riding season here in the East.  Taking the time to stop and experience.  These are things that I didn’t value early in my riding years because of the constant pressure of maintaining fitness.  Sure, I like to stay fit, but the most enjoyable part of riding now is the experience of the trail and the congenial atmosphere of riding with friends or riding solo at my own pace.  NiteRider2

Night riding with friends generates some interesting conversations on the trail when we compare lighting systems.  It is amazing to compare the bright LED technology to the old days of the yellow beam generated by Night Rider or Night Sun.  Both of those companies have stepped up their game but there is so much competition today especially with all of the imported inexpensive lights flooding the market.  Battery life, wiring, lumens, LED and other issues are brought forth on the trail and also continued in our local after ride watering hole-The OTB Cafe.  My wife and non-riding friends are amazed at the enthusiasm and the conversations that are related to how many lumens a light will actually produce compared to the claims of the manufacturer.  The “oneupsmanship” is really amusing as guys compare their lighting systems on the trail only to be totally outdone by a new system utilized by the Dirt Rage Magazine crew.  This $1200.00 retail light is ridiculously bright and the mortal man would not spend that kind of dough to stay upright on the trails at night.  But it is fun to see how that drowns out all of our lighting systems.  photo

So, if you think that the waning daylight and pending time change relegates you to the local gym, think again my friends.  The trails provide enjoyment long into the late fall and winter if you are prepared and game for riding in the dark. I see trail runners with their headlamps, dog walkers with headlamps and lights for their dogs, hikers utilizing LED technology.  Lots of folks on the trails after dark.   My friend the Shark(Mark Sauers) also has some advice for night rides as the weather deteriorates.  He says there is no such thing as bad weather- only bad clothing.  How true.   If we remember that and prepare, our experiences on the trail at night can continue through most of the winter.  Keep riding/running/hiking and for those who don’t have a light…………get on it!!  Thanks for reading.

Navigating the Adventure Waterways

Piloting a water craft has never been my strong suit.  I have always been attracted to rafts, kayaks, canoes and the like, but my technique has never allowed me to be successful.  In fact some of the most humiliating experiences of my outdoor adventures have been my poor attempts to navigate the waters of adventure.  20It all started when I was a kid and our community pool manager,Don Geyer, took all of us to Ohiopyle,Pa. to go rafting on the Youghiogheny River.  It was fun and the large rafts navigated the rapids rather easily and I thought I was destined for greatness on the waters of the Laurel Highlands.  We had several trips over the years and I always went and my appetite for water adventure was created in those rapids on the Yough.  Fast forward to post college in my granola crunching years where I thought it would be cool to take up kayaking.  I took a 6 week course and felt really uncomfortable trying to roll myself upright in a pool in the kayak.  I always exited in ” save my ass” fashion and surfaced much to the disappointment of the instructor.  As patient as he was, he was not getting the rollover technique ingrained into his worst student.  I like to consider myself athletic but for some reason, the kayak and I were not friends and my balance sitting down in the thing was tenuous.  It was at this time of the year when we had our “graduation” on the Yough and I went to Ohiopyle with the group on a crisp fall day with snow flurries in the air.  Not the optimum conditions in my mind.  But I brought my state of the art Buckflex rain suit with me figuring that it would help me stay dry and warm as I navigated the river.  As expected, I went in the drink a lot and my rain suit was a poor substitute for a wet suit and I paddled soaking wet for most of the outing.  With snow flurries in the air and my teeth rattling from heat loss, I was a poor picture of a successful kayak whitewater adventurer..  My expert paddling friends Bert Davis, Jim Weaver, and John Hinderliter would not have been happy with my performance.  As I dragged the craft up the hill to the truck in silence, I knew that the kayak world of Ohiopyle was not for me and I had better find another pursuit.

7a8f5ae2-4c4f-439c-b3fd-312ea1779447_MSo moving on to the next opportunity, I entered an interesting race in the mountains that was a combination of skiing, mountain biking, canoeing and trail running.  My friend Dixon and I entered this race and I was undaunted by the fact that I had never piloted a canoe.  I figured that I had the skiing, cycling, trail running thing down pretty well and that the canoe would be a short venture into the unknown.  Was I surprised!!!  The skiing went well as we crossed the face of the mountain as fast as we could and were the first guys at the transition.  Dix and I both jumped on our bikes and rode the snow covered trails down to the Loyalhanna Creek where the canoe transition was placed.  Pumped up by the fact that Dix and I were both in the lead, I jumped in the canoe and promptly flipped it and I ended up in the drink again only this time, the water was bone chilling, teeth rattling, icy cold and it took my breath away.  As I saw Dixon successfully paddling downstream( he had been a canoe paddler all his life in his summers in New Hampshire), I scrambled to right the canoe and managed to drag my soaked frame into the boat and start the process of paddling.  As my legs started to cramp from the cold and wet, I once again told myself that I would never paddle another craft in my life as my teeth rattled in a deja vu fashion from my kayak days.  I managed to get the canoe to the shore for the next transition and changed into my wet trail running shoes and was able to catch up to Dix because he was not a runner.  We both were surprised that someone had surged ahead of us on the water and we ended up second and third, but looking at the snowy banks of the Loyalhanna from a submerged position in the water was an experience that I did not want again.

The last foray into the water craft world was right after I was married and much to my trepidation, I relented to take my father in law, mother in law, and my wife on a rafting trip on the Yough.  They knew that I had done it before and I was the household resident expert.  I ended up with my mother in law and my wife in a small 4 person raft as my father in law went with some other friends.  All was well until we approached the notorious “Dimple Rock” which had the reputation for bending canoes in half and sucking unsuspecting rafters into a vicious eddy before spitting them out into Swimmers Rapids. As luck would have it, my female companions were firmly planted in the front of the raft with yours truly at the rear piloting us directly into the path of the infamous, sucking rock.  No matter what I did, that thing was like a magnet and as we hit it flush in the center, the raft folded in half, I ended up 8 feet in the air and as the raft sprung back into shape after bouncing off the “Dimple” I was ejected out into the Swimmers Rapids.  My wife said later that she was talking to me and looked back to see no one in the rear of the craft..  I floated by them laying on my back with my life vest and tennis shoes protruding from the rapids and told them I would see them in a mile at the end of the Swimmers Rapids.  They were not too happy to be piloting the 4 man raft which was now the panicky two lady raft.  I climbed back in at the end of the rapids with my ears ringing with nothing sympathetic to say the least.

So as I see the leaves falling and the beautiful colors of the Laurel Highlands in full grandeur, I like to view it all from the seat of my mountain bike or on foot hiking the miles of available trails in our ridges to the east.  I have been tempted to try SUP and perhaps kayaking again.  But safe to say, those thoughts quickly vanish as I picture the drowned rat 59 year old kid on the waters of adventure.  Thanks for reading and don’t let me dismay you.  0fcb7bc6-f5b3-403f-98e3-006f9f8d1f5f_M

The Allegheny Crawl

There are a lot of distractions today for kids and their parents.  X Box, Play Station, soccer, baseball, organized teams, with all kinds of practices, games and meets.  So much more than when I grew up in a less harried environment.  Parents today rush around hauling their kids to multiple events and the logistics are mind boggling. Video games offer entertainment while parents tend to catch up on their own lives, but life is gas pedal to the floor in most households today. My parents did a lot for my sister and me back in the day, but the center of most of the activity was the community pool.  Moms tended to be stay at home in those days and as they lined up in their chaise lounges every day in what the guards called “hysterectomy row”, they cheered us on in our practices and meets with the swim team.  photo

I was a decent swimmer back then but only had a limited repertoire.  I could not swim the butterfly, backstroke was weird and I kept hitting the lane markers, freestyle was good for 25 meters and then I was fried.  But I could swim the breastroke all day because it was a natural stroke for me.  Problem was that I had some pretty good competition with the Rose brothers, Dru Duffy and Johnny Kane who were all talented breastrokers and I battled out the time trials in order to compete in the meets.  Sometimes I was successful and sometimes not but it was a good lesson for me that anything that you wanted in life, you had to work for and there were winners and losers.  Not everyone got a trophy, medal, or ribbon for just showing up – you had to learn to be a gracious winner and an equally gracious loser.  I swam in the winters too at the Allegheny YMCA on the northside of Pittsburgh in a rather rough neighborhood.  I saw fights, stabbings, police chases, and other various and sundry activities but my mom was steadfast in her belief that I should see all kinds of people in all kinds of situations.  My folks exposed us to a lot of athletic activities but interestingly, they were not athletic at all and had very little interest other than they thought these activities would be good for Molly and me.

The final activity of the summer/early fall after all the swim meets were over, was the annual Father-Daughter, Mother-Son relay where the parents had the opportunity to show off their prowess much to the delight of their kids and their friends.  As my mom lined up on the other side of the pool, she was on stage in her new suit and matching flowered bathing cap.  As the gun went off, she was the last one in the pool and began what she lovingly referred to as “The Allegheny Crawl.”  This was an odd stroke that was a combination breastroke/freestyle with a weak flutter kick that propelled my mom by the minutes instead of seconds as she flailed her way dramatically towards me.  She smiled at her friends and at me as if to say,” I will get there – be patient.”  Edna Kane had already touched the wall and John took off while I sat on the block waiting for my mom to “crawl” her way to the end of her lap.  With my little pot belly and Speedo at ready, I was amazed to see that the race was already over by the time my mom touched the wall and the silence of the crowd was deafening as I swam furiously to the other end of the pool.  The cheering was long over and my finish as an “also-ran” was a little humiliating.  But I smiled and congratulated my mom who was holding court and laughing with her friends.  But perhaps the most rewarding moment for my mom was to see my dad’s eyes as he hugged her with pride for attempting the event in the first place.  My mom and dad were always there for each other and my sister and I were always in second place.  They had a great marriage and it was evident in scenes like this when the pride in my dad’s eyes completely overshadowed the performance of the McCloskey mother- son relay team.  photoThe little guy holding the corner of the flag is me with my rival but good friend Johhny Kane to my left.  photo

Things were a lot less complicated in those days and the lessons learned at the community pool have lasted with me for a while now.  The competition, the practices, the atmosphere where all the kids and moms were safe and sound at the pool was comforting.  The lesson for me was that as much as we have tried to do for our kids and as much as generations will do in the future, the main thing is to put your spouse first like my folks did.  As the relays ended and the years at the pool marched on, I knew looking at my folks that all was well with the world when I saw the love in their eyes.  They rushed us to meets, practices, and all kinds of events like many of us do with our kids at great personal expense.  But the main focus was on each other.  I can imitate the Allegheny Crawl today and we all have a good chuckle out of that, but even though mom was not as fast as Edna Kane, she was stylish in her own way- crawling or not.  Long live Valley Brook Swim Club.  Thanks for reading.

Luxury Vehicles? Not for me.

As the beautiful fall colors are adorning our trees here in Western Pa., I see a lot of folks driving their luxury vehicles on leaf peeping excursions.  You know the ones with the Mercedes, Lexus, BMWs,  whose cars are immaculately shined, tires gleaming with Armour All, drivers dressed in pressed khakis and starched Polo shirts- loafers with no shoes, sweaters draped over their shoulders sporting aviator sunglasses.  These folks love their cars and love the idea of driving them to parties, work, or other locations where they can show their passion for their vehicles.  My crowd is a little more earthy and the mountain bikers, hikers, and skiers that I know drive dated SUVs and 4 wheel drive pickups.  I am no exception with a 5 year old Jeep which has 143,000 miles to date and is absolutely filthy- much to my wonderful wife’s dismay.  ” Why do you beat our vehicles” she gasps as she sees my Jeep filled with firewood or piled to the ceiling with mulch in the spring.  Some of that mulch is still working its way out of the seats this fall and the sand from the beach this summer compliments the compost like decor I have beneath my seats and on the surface of the carpets.  I see vehicles as a practical mode of transportation and if there is a layer of mud from my mountain bike gear, or last years doughnut crumbs still wedged in my cup holder, I am not dismayed.  As long as I can transport my gear and get there safely with 4 wheel drive, I am not concerned with the appearance of a vehicle.  IMG_0574

This disdain for vehicle maintenance all began when I started to drive my mom’s 1964 yellow Buick convertible back in high school. I transported many of my friends to school and back and oftentimes the top was down- even in the winter.  As we pelted classmates with snowballs from the moving convertible, it became a battle vehicle until the day the top would not go back up and my dad was aghast at the snow in the seats and floors.  I put large snow tires on the rear wheels and loaded the trunk with sand bags for the weekend ski trips to the mountains.  Whenever there was a snow day at school, you could be sure that the yellow Buick was filled with equipment and headed for ski country- no matter what the road conditions were like.  My parents were very understanding.  1964_Buick_Special_convertible

Moving along, I graduated to four wheel drive SUVs and the original orange International Scout hauled many a friend out of a ditch with the obligatory come-a-long or tow strap that I had stashed in my trunk.  I felt obligated to get anyone who was stuck, out of the snow and it was fun seeing what the Scout could do in adverse conditions.  That vehicle made many New England ski trips, hiking excursions to the Mt. Washington Valley, and regular weekend trips to the Laurel Highlands here in Pa.  When my dad built his house in Wexford, the Scout was our construction vehicle hauling angle iron for his greenhouse, mulch, lumber, and other required materials.  My dad thought the Scout was a great vehicle and often overestimated its capacity to haul.  Lots of oversized materials were transported in the Scout and as time went on, it was abused beyond function.  1979_International_Scout_II_For_Sale_Front_resize

Next came the Blazers.  Chevy warns you to break in the vehicles slowly and not drive too fast for long periods of time when you first acquire a Blazer.  My friend Bob Dresher and I would take the radar detector and set land speed records to Killington and the Mt. Washington Valley.  Needless to say, that vehicle woke up in a hurry.  Skis, mulch, firewood, all filled the Blazers for many, many trips and as the mileage piled up, so did the warning lights on the dashboard telling me that I had abused the vehicle beyond its normal capacity and maintenance was sorely required.  Honda Passports, Mitsubishi Monteros, and finally the Jeep have graced my driveway and my friends and neighbors all chuckle with the constant addition of ski related or mountain bike related bumper stickers or window decals.  My friends with the luxury vehicles all look at me with confusion in their eyes as to why I am not interested in driving a comfortable, well manicured vehicle?  I guess it just goes with my ragged, humorous personality and internal value systems.  The things that get me up in the morning are those that are fun and adventurous.  I may have wrinkled shirts and pants, and my Jeep is a mess, but my wife loves me for who I am and knows that some things are not on my radar screen.  Experiences are important to me, not creature comforts.  I have tried to be more considerate of Janet over the years, but that dirtbag ethos is lurking in my soul and I try to keep the lid on it as well as I can.  Ross_TX_89Blazer_1RR

The Jeep is running well and as I look forward to another winter of mountain adventures, I know that American ingenuity will keep me upright on the snowy roads.  I may have to hose it down from time to time and take comfort when I see a muscle car get stuck on the side-roads.  But I know that my selection and treatment of vehicles over the years has provided me with many memories of classic road trips. I don’t need pressed pants or a sparkling vehicle to enjoy the good times.  Just unloaded 2 Jeep-loads of firewood in my backyard over the weekend.  Guess I will be finding all of that bark next summer at the beach.  Thanks for reading.

Opportunities

Next week I celebrate 26 years of marriage to my best friend and wonderful wife.  The picture you see here of Janet has been altered because I did not want to dilute the beauty of my bride on that wonderful day with my countenance as I would show that picture for the next 26 years.  It has been a great honor to be married to her and if I had not taken the opportunity that was presented to me 27 years ago, I might not be in the position that I am today as her husband and father to our son.

Let me take you back to the days when I was a 33 year old bachelor, living a rather structured life. Typically, my life looked like this:

  • Wake up
  • pack my cycling gear or running gear
  • go to work
  • drive to North Park and either run or ride with my posse of friends
  • summer time- Tuesday night road cycling time trials
  • summer time- Wednesday night road cycling Criterium races at the Highland Park Zoo parking lot
  • winter- run trails with lights
  • winter- ski every weekend
  • eat at the “dump” ( a local greasy spoon) or the default Italian restaurant with my cronies
  • go home
  • lay on the floor and watch HBO until bedtime
  • get up and do it all over over again – the next day or weekendphotophoto

This was very easy to do and all of our crowd would know where we all were every night of the week or every weekend.  The routine was great and I was getting used to not doing much in the evening but resting for the next days athletic activities.  I had an old TV that I pilfered from my mom and dad and got pretty good at laying on the floor and changing the channels with my toes because I had no remote.  My townhouse was pretty low maintenance and whenever I left for a race or a ski trip, I just locked the door and went my merry way.  Life was good and my friends were faithful and held me accountable to work out.

One day, my future mother in law, whom I have known for many years, asked me what I was doing lately. ” How is your love life,Patrick?”  I would tell her I was like a cactus in the desert with an occasional tumbleweed passing through on a late night windstorm.  She laughed and said that Janet ( I have known her since she was 8 years old- that is another story), was going to a party with her flight attendant friends and maybe I should go to meet all of them?  I responded that I would like to do that and when the day came, I was laying on the floor, watching the tube, comfortable after a shower, toeing the TV, and wondering if I really wanted to go seeing that I had  big ride scheduled for the next morning.  But I thought, “what the hell, might as well go.  You never know who you will meet and take advantage of the opportunity”.  Well, I went to the party and sure enough, the most attractive girl was Janet.  I was a slave to fashion at the time( not) and picked up all the girls in my Blazer with my baggy shorts, my grandfather’s fishing shirt, and running shoes.  Janet later remarked that she called her mother and told her about my crazy outfit.  I still wear that type of stuff today.  But as we talked at the party, I began to scheme how I would attract Janet into going out with me.

The long and the short of it was that I took her cycling.  I picked up her bike at her folk’s house and when they asked me what I was doing, I told my future in laws that I was fixing Janet’s bike.  They asked if I knew that she was dating a guy she worked with and I said,” I will make her forget his name.”  They laughed about that for years and our dating career started at the Park.  Janet was a little intimidated when she saw the sea of lycra, helmets and road bikes but I assured her that we would take a little ride and then go get something to eat.  Fast forward, Janet has been subject to all of my passions at the park and on the slopes and has handled it with grace.  She has had some mishaps as of late with a broken elbow last summer while hiking and a broken humerus ( not humorous) on a rails to trails ride this summer.  I have taken her skiing in the freezing rain, blinding snowstorms out west, bullet proof conditions at Whiteface in the Adirondacks, and various other adventures that she might have never experienced had she not met the 59 year old kid.  But the best adventure for me was taking the opportunity to go to that party and experience how a kind and loving person could enhance my rigid life.

I guess the point of all this is that if you don’t take opportunities in your life and stick to the mundane and the routine, you might never experience life to it’s fullest potential.  The operative word for all of us should be ” yes” because you never know what might present itself, what great place to be experienced, what wonderful people you might meet, and what life changing experience might unfold right before your eyes.  I have had a lot of experiences in my day because I was crazy enough to always say “yes”.  But the best experience for me was the day that I took an opportunity and said,” I do.”  Thanks for 26 great years Janet.  Thanks for reading.

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The Month of Mud

patmccloskey:

To celebrate the annual Bywaters funfest- the Month of Mud.

Originally posted on chroniclesofmccloskey:

DSC_0099-Lphoto So I buy myself a mountain bike right around the time that I was first married. The technology in the 80s was primitive compared to today but nonetheless, I was riding a steel frame, straight fork(shocks for mountain bikes were not invented yet), cantilever front brake and “U” brake for the rear wheel. The worst invention of all time seeing that the “U” brake caught all the mud, sticks, leaves, gum wrappers, and anything else it could suck up on a ride. I was in virgin territory in the woods of North Park with my new mountain bike.

Fast forward, the competitive juices started to flow again and the next thing you know, I am in a series of local mountain bike races called” The Month of Mud.” Now my friend Gary Bywaters started this frivolity and all of us local road riders and racers got involved and it was…

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All Hail the Bathtub Trail

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Years ago when I first started to run the trails in the fall with our fearless leader, Jack McArdle, we were always treated to a description of the route at our local park.  If we complained, we were assigned “penalty hills” and as we groaned with a smile on our face, we dutifully ran the hills until the next assignment by the trail boss.  Invariably, each trail run always included a run up or down the “Bathtub Trail”.  At first I was confused as to what Jack was talking about until I came upon the ancient bathtub placed to collect spring water at the base of the trail.  It was always a curious placement and I always wondered who put it there and when was it placed?  It was always a topic of discussion and I was always way more curious than my fellow runners with my inspections of the clear spring water and the curiosity as to why on earth someone would take the time to put a bathtub there?

As time went on, the Bathtub Trail was a common route for runners and eventually mountain bikers in the park.  But the trail itself was a challenge to any newcomer on two wheels with its off camber construction and loose soil which if ridden with reckless abandon, would extract a flesh wounding penalty to the disrespectful or ignorant rider.  It was almost as if the bathtub itself was a sentinel which demanded respect and if the proper homage was not paid, the penalty for a rider down the trail could be severe.  The opposite could be true as well in that the unprepared rider or runner might not make it up the trail without dismounting and humbly walking up to the summit.  photo

I can remember vividly Pat” the nurse” which was his moniker by the trail runners, attempting to ride down the Bathtub Trail with his newly purchased hybrid bike.  Despite my warnings about hybrid rims and tires not holding up to the demands of the trails, Pat rode down the trail without respecting what was before him. As his rims both “pretzeled” under the rigors of the terrain, the nurse went careening into the trees and came up a dazed and bloody mess.  He agonized over his destroyed wheels and remarked  ” I just bought this bike and now it is trash.”  I warned him.  I thought to myself,” another example of not respecting the trail and paying homage to the reputation of ……..the bathtub.  It was almost as if positive execution required some sort of homage to this graven image or perhaps we should light yak butter candles or install prayer flags like the climbers who dare climb in the Himalaya?  I laugh at these fleeting, ridiculous ,thoughts but maybe there is something to it?  Just kidding……………maybe?  photo

Currently, the Bathtub Trail has some competition surrounding it as other trails have been constructed offering alternate routes for the trail runners, equestrians, and mountain bikers.  But for me, the familiarity with the trail ridden hundreds and hundreds of times in all weather is comforting.  Familiarity with any trail can make things a lot easier and riding them without much thought can be comforting or lead to disaster if you take for granted that the descent is still a little sketchy.  I was riding the other day with some guys and they inquired why I was riding down the Bathtub and ignoring some of the newer single track.  I remarked that you had to pay homage to the Bathtub Trail every once in a while to keep the “karma” positive.  We all had a good laugh at that one but as I passed the tub, I looked into the glass like water and gave it a nod of respect.  Not much different than I would have received a blessing from one of those Tibetan monks before attempting a daunting climb.  That bathtub has seen much carnage over the years and has extracted some serious penalties from some unsuspecting riders and runners.  But not me.  All hail……………..the Bathtub Trail.  Thanks for laughing but don’t do it near the trail.  :)