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I hiked up to the crash site today -- a place I have jumped for years -- and saw the orange paint from the investigation. It's all so strange to me. I turned Adam on to "Nike" about 4 years ago, his first off-road ride was on Nike, then I took him to Sycamore (my personal favorite). And this past December I showed him Sullivan Cyn. He loved it! He was always a very tame rider. I never saw him jump or wheelie or anything, he was always a cautious rider.

After speaking with several witnesses, I've learned that the impact killed him instantly. I am grateful he did not suffer. It was really nice to find this chat.

My best,

Thanks to this board for being so kind to my friend.

My mom, dad, my partner, and my brother Steve were all able to visit the site together on Tuesday morning, March 8. I live in San Francisco and visit LA frequently. I intend to visit my brother's spirit there as often as possible.

It is our deepest hope that Adam's life can be a lesson for everyone. He lived life to the fullest. He never sat on the sidelines. He had a totally "can do" attitude and he had a light that emanated from every cell of his being. I will post my full eulogy from his funeral on the web and when I do, will post the URL on this message board.

We have found comfort in singing the song, "This Little Light of Mine" with a couple of personalized verses. As you ride by the site or visit it to think about Adam's life, I encourage you to sing or hum this:

This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.
This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.
This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Up in Mandeville Canyon, I’m going to let it shine.
Up in Mandeville Canyon, I’m going to let it shine.
Up in Mandeville Canyon, I’m going to let it shine.
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Playing with Payton and Harper, I’m going to let it shine.
Playing with Payton and Harper, I’m going to let it shine.
Playing with Payton and Harper, I’m going to let it shine.
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

It's been years since I've ridden that trail but when I received the email about the crash I immediately suspected it was the same jump I launched myself off at warp speed about 15 years ago during a sunrise mountain bike ride.

At the time I hadn't ridden Westridge very much so I was unfamiliar with the jump. I'd gone for a winter sunrise ride/date with the hope of enjoying a crystal-clear post-rain sunrise. Those rare times when the grey haze is replaced by blue skies and vistas of snow-capped mountains, glass skyscrapers, miles of miniature houses and the Pacific Ocean.

Intoxicated by the fresh air and beautiful views, I decided to let loose. I hopped out of my seat and slammed down on the crank arms kicking a little rooster tail of gravel as I pulled away from my cute but oh-so-slow date. Before long I was completely spun out in my top gear when I saw what looked a like a gentle little jump.

Like Adam, I took the bait and hit the jump at full speed.

I was at the top of the jump just as the all-important question came to mind, "So what's behind this berm? Hmmm And am I going too fast?"

The answers are: A slight downhill slope and Yes! I was going way too fast.

By then it was too late. I was committed but my momentary hesitation caused me to lose focus and instead of being at one with the bike and focusing on the fun, I panicked. My last second attempt to slow down distracted me from the landing and I let my back end get a little sideways.

The tires dug into the moist clay. I launched for a second time - right over the handle bars with my head tucked into my chest and my bike following me.

By the time I picked my face out of the mud I'd traveled a good 25 to 35 feet or more with most of that being airtime. I guess I was lucky because I only managed to break my navicular bone (the one right below the thumb) but I was still able to ride back to my car.

I was hoping my date would at least spend some time fawning over me but instead she just asked, "What are you doing on the ground?"

"Just resting," was my sarcastic answer. I assumed she couldn't miss the blood and the mud covering me.

"Oh," came her response as she rode away. "In that case, I'll meet you at the car."

Needless to say, I gave up any romantic aspirations I had for her. Instead I gingerly stood up, limped to my bike and rode one-handed back to the car.

It's definitely a suckers jump since you don't notice that the backside slopes down so you can catch some real big airtime if you hit it at speed. As someone who's had the opportunity to nearly kill myself multiple times on various misadventures, I don't like the idea of eliminating the jump - but given the amount of traffic and history of accidents a warning sign is definitely necessary.

And to Adam’s family and friends, just know that in the seconds before his death he was alive. Alive with the rush of adrenaline as he sped down the rocky fire road, surrounded by the glorious green of the Santa Monica mountains, the ocean to one side, the airplanes landing at LAX in front, the immensity of LA spread out before him and the snow-covered mountains in the distance behind him. In those fleeting seconds he was truly alive, the inhibitions of work, mortgages, rent, traffic, were gone and he was at one with the wind.

Saturday May 6 was Adam's birthday. He would have been 36.

I know some of his friends were heading up to the crash site today.

If any of you are riding by there this weekend, please wish him a happy birthday for me.

We'll gather at 1pm. We'll read some poems, say the mourner's kaddish together, tell stories about Adam and toast him with a swig of water and a fistful of trail mix!

Please join us if you will be in the area and please make others who knew Adam aware of this ritual.