I'm quite tired of cold weather, and that reminds me of hot times in Moab.
For a number of years, Tony C and I made multiple trips to Moab, every season. We usually made our first trip of the year to the Beehive State in early March, trying to escape the cold weather and leafless trees in Denver. A couple of trips in the spring, then a couple of trips in the fall were the norm. For the most part, it's too damn hot to ride in Moab, during the summer.
A few times, though, we ended up in the desert during the month of July. Usually, we would get up early, before the sun rose, and ride until about 8:00 AM, when the temperature would hit 100F. We would then go to town and hang out, and get back on the trail around sundown and ride until it was too dark to see (or later, if we had lights with us).
On day, we were out on the Slickrock Trail and, due to a series of unfortunate events (a couple of flats, some small crashes) we ended up being out on the trail until well into the morning. The little zipper-pull thermometer on my bike bag was showing 105 degrees, when we got back to the parking lot.
On this particular trip, we were camping at Sand Flats. So, the temperature at our tent was also 105. We headed down the hill, looking to cool off. As we drove, both of us were really ready for a shower, but we had nowhere to take one.
We approached the stop sign at the bottom of Sand Flats Road and noticed that the elementary school had its lawn sprinklers going. Two minutes later, we were stripped down to only our bike shorts, running around in the sprinklers like a couple of kids.
I don't know that I ever enjoyed a shower as much as I enjoyed that icy-cold spray in the school yard.
We ended up at the city park, just down the road, sleeping on the sheltered picnic tables, in the shade, for a couple of hours. Then, back to the bikes.
I miss those dirtbag trips.