I was enticed to ride Allamuchy under the promise that when we got to the top of the mountain, there would be a food court where could pick up quick snacks and chill out under the canopy of umbrella’s for a bit, in order that we could recharge. Gullible as I am, I thought that sounded great and went along with the ruse. As I endured several miles of relentless bone shaking and traversing through trails disturbingly named after facets of human suffering (Cardiac Ditch), I kept a firm vision in my mind of what this food pavilion would look like. It’s wonderful smells flashed through my imagination and sparked my motivation to press forward. However, there were no restaurants, no umbrellas, no relaxing music, no place to put our feet up and unwind. The ride felt like a descent through all of Dante’s concentric circles of torment. Instead of MoochBucks, we got a giant, unrelenting pile of rocks. Keep pressing forward folks and together we will find the great food court on the trails.