His mouth hangs open but nothing comes out. I try to urge him to continue, but he’s already wandering through the souvenir section again. What could he possibly be looking for?
He’s crouching down low, flipping through a section of tank tops. They’re cropped and covered in plastic designs. Resisting the urge to sigh out loud, I crouch down next to him and whisper in his ear, “What on earth are you looking for?”
Through laughter he tells me, “You need a new shirt, remember?”
I grab for the tank he’s holding, but he hides it behind his back. Foolishly, I keep trying to get it until I’m halfway in his lap and we’re about to tumble sideways. I absolutely do not want any part of my skin to touch this glorified dirt floor.
I scramble to stand and pull him up with me. He’s laughing out loud—unrestrained and beautiful. His happiness is contagious, and I find myself smiling too.
Reid, still holding the shirt behind his back, covers my eyes with his rough hand and whispers in my ear, “Prepare yourself. I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”
He uncovers my eyes and holds up the most atrocious thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a cropped tank top that’s two sizes too small for me. The color is somewhere between brown and green, and the design gets worse from there. A plastic T-Rex is plastered over the center, and it reads ‘I’m rexy and I know it.’
I can’t help but cackle. This is absolutely ridiculous. “Reid! I am not wearing that.”
He’s pouting. “Aw, come on! It’s perfect for you.”
Reid holds up one of my arms and says, “See, you have such small arms.”
He’s barely able to get the words out before his laughter overcomes him.
I’m rolling my eyes even though I want to let go and enjoy this moment. I toss the shirt at his head. “You think you’re soooooo funny, don’t you?”
Reid shrugs and carefully hangs the visual abomination back on the rack. He’s still chuckling softly at his own antics. I love when he makes himself laugh so hard that he cries. We make our way towards the exit, and I feel lighter than I did this morning. Maybe the trip won’t be so bad.
I’m back out under the blazing sun as Reid pauses to say goodbye to the strange owner. Now that I’m alone, I allow myself one full smile towards the sun before covering it again.
He’s beaming when he joins me in the parking lot—I don’t know why he loves little stops like this, but he does. Even back in Colorado, he would make us go to the dingiest diners and gift shops. Reid is always looking for diamonds in the rough.
“Let’s get back on the road.”
“What, you don’t like fossils?” Reid asks, ignoring my remark.
I disregard him and climb back into Willa. Arriving in Jackson is going to be a relief. If I spend much longer alone with Reid, I’ll probably do something stupid like try to kiss him and ruin our friendship forever.
The Tetons come into view,and I’m wiggling my ass around in my seat. I can’t sit still. My friendship bracelet from Riley typically hangs on my rear view mirror, but right now it’s serving as my fidget toy so I don’t tear my fingernails off. The rough edges of the leather help to center me so that I don’t drift off of the road and into some ditch.
I’m equal parts excited and terrified to be back in these mountains.
I love the Colorado mountains, how could I not? They’re gorgeous and they’re home. There’s something extra special about the mountains in Wyoming though. These mountains are sharper—wild and free. The wildlife here is more extreme too, from grizzlies to chipmunks and everything in between.
Wyoming is big and rugged. It makes me feel small, and I love it. July is the perfect time to come here, in my opinion. Jackson is at a significantly lower elevation than our hometown of Ridge Crest, Colorado. The air is still just as fresh and full of pine, but there’s a bit more of it, which should help me during my ride.
Wildflowers are in bloom, and I can’t wait to go looking for some tomorrow. We have the next two days off before the Teton Trail Blaze. It will be significantly more intense than our last event, with way more downhill terrain and far bigger jumps.
The women have a different course, but it’s still pretty gnarly.
They released the details of the trail a few weeks ago, so I feel ready. I know exactly how I want to ride and what moves I want to try. The forecast looks ideal, so I’m feeling pretty confident. This is the first event that really feels like it matters though. The first half of the season is more like practice, but as we get closer to fall and Red Bull Rampage, the stakes are significantly higher.
I don’t expect an invite this year—that’s the goal though,even if it feels like an unrealistic one. Reid made it last year, and the one before that. He came in second to last place the first year, but we were so proud of him. Just being invited is a massive accomplishment. He didn’t place in the top three his second year, but I’m sure he will this year.
He’s never been in better shape, and he’s found his style as a rider. Every competition he leans further and further into the ‘Hasty Hastings’ persona. I lay awake at night wondering if—and when—he’ll hit his limit. He had a pretty bad fall a few years ago and had to get ACL surgery. No one in the circuit remembers that except for me.
With the way that Reid rides, it seems he’s forgotten too. I know it still bothers him—I see him lean more on his good leg when it rains or after a hard ride, but he still hits jumps like he’s twenty-two and invincible.
Reid also has a far more significant social media presence than me. He has thousands of followers. I can barely get ten likes. All he has to do is get a little sweaty and post his forearms holding his handlebars, and it goes viral. The same innocent pose doesn’t do so well for me.
The only extreme sports girls that do well on socials are showing their titties. While I respect their grind, I can’t bring myself to objectify my body like that for engagement. I wish I could do it though, because it would definitely help me get more sponsors.
