April 6th apparently operates on a simple philosophy: when life gives you mud, cold, or existential dread, go ride anyway.
The pattern started back in 2006 with record rainfall that somehow didn't stop a proper Blue Mountain session. Then came 2008's gadget-enhanced training updates, followed by 2009's Speedwagon Classic adventure where losing all my Carbo Rocket qualified as merely a "tiny setback." By 2010, winter weather advisories inspired proper rants about bullying and parental responsibility. 2012 brought ankle-deep slush and the realization that foot training meant exactly what it sounded like.
The date took a weird turn with 2014's Vegas animal interviews and sinus infection contemplations. 2017 introduced Cruzie and the eternal mystery of dropper posts. Then 2020's wilderness snapshots, 2021's insurance phone marathons, and 2023's moody Oregon coast drama. Last year's Helgate Canyon saga wove indigenous history with COVID-fueled delirium, while this year's mystical buttercup tale proved 59-year-old van-dwelling researchers can still find magic.
Twenty years of April 6ths confirm one truth: bad weather, bureaucratic nonsense, and questionable life choices never actually stop the ride. They just make better stories afterward.