Darkwing Saves Winter
Studs, hunger, redemption
A week of mechanical betrayal will do strange things to a person. Rides aborted. Drives home unfinished. That quiet erosion where you start wondering if the whole thing is slipping away. Yesterday I pointed the truck toward Marshall Mountain anyway, mostly out of stubbornness, partly because staying home was not an option anymore.
Darkwing waited in the garage like she always does… calm, unapologetic, ready. Studded tires went on with the usual side quests. A dead compressor. Hand pumping. Three rounds of topping off air. Normal stuff. I rolled out around five, chewing through two bananas and a bag of chips like they were mission critical, because once six hit, the kitchen was closed for the night. Riding hungry is fine. Going to bed hungry after riding is where the brain starts bargaining.
The climb started with that familiar clickety clack of studs on exposed dirt, every dry patch making me wince. You do not buy expensive ice tires to hear them scrape. Somewhere in there I did the mental math and realized studs twice a year are still cheaper than buying another bike. File that away. On the tower road I changed plans, pointed higher, and kept going toward the top of Marshall instead of turning around like a sensible person.
Darkwing never complained. One short hike through a drift, barely an inconvenience, then it was all payoff. The descent toward the ski area was pure winter chaos. Powder blasting sideways, speed that felt earned, that quiet electric whir carrying me through snow that would have stopped anything else I own right now (grrrr). When I rolled back to the truck, lungs burning and stomach empty, I punched the air and yelled it out loud. Yes. Yes. Darkwing. I love you.
Found the one thing that still worked and letting it remind me why I keep doing this in the first place.