Goin back to cali (part 1)

The Carbon Canyon / Chino Hills trails are just a couple of miles from my folks’ house, where I usually stay when I’m in Cali. I like them because they’re close by and they can work you over. Long fireroad climbs (sometimes very steep) and long fireroad descents, but not much else. I was there soon after a controlled burn, so it was like riding through hell— miles and miles of scorched black earth with no shade in sight and temps in the mid 90s. What little shade left was confined to a 3 mile corridor through Telegraph Canyon. So it was no surprise that all the wildlife in the park was hanging out there. As I round a blind turn I run into two bobcat cubs. I slam the brakes and stop about 10 feet from them. I don't know if these cats have a taste for manflesh, but the recent stories of mountain lions attacking bikers has me worried. They’re smack in the middle of the trail and they’re not moving. “This must be some new ambush tactic,” I think to myself. I’m scanning the area looking for their mother, and hoping to God that I don’t feel claws on my back and fangs in my neck. Meanwhile one of the cubs is checking me out thinking, “I could probably take him down, but there’s not much meat on him.” Reluctantly, they turn and scamper playfully into the brush. I put it in the big ring (yes I had gears, I am not proud) and haul ass out of there. The loose sand makes it hard to hold any speed. I’m constantly checking over my shoulder for the sight of fangs, thinking that if I did see them, there really wouldn’t be much I could do anyways. Eventually, I find the fireroad that climbs out of the canyon and make it back to the car with all my flesh intact.