Back in the day, I had the pleasure of working with an eccentric guy we called Pants. Among other things, Pants has a vocabulary that is second to none. Pants loves bunnies, excellent java and, of course, a great burrito.
But there is another side of Pants that sets him apart from the rest: Pants takes pride in his ability to ghost ride his machine further and faster than anyone else. And we are not talking about just a light roller where the bike comes to rest in some brush just up the trail. We are talking HUGE, hucking style with ample hangtime and the potential for utter devastion upon re-entry. Off a bank into a deep stream? No sweat. Into a thick of trees? Why not? Pants is never afraid of consequences and the allure of going higher and faster always tempts him.
There is eery silence that blankets onlookers when a machine has left the safety of its owner and is rocketing toward fate, alone, solo, as its momentum faces an eventual demise. No matter the conditions, no matter the company, Pants is always up for some wicked ghost riding.