Things That Melt on a Summer Ride

Every summer UTV ride starts the same way. The forecast looks fine. The trail sounds fun. You tell yourself you’ve ridden in worse heat. Then the sun comes out swinging, and the melting begins.

Your ice.

That cooler you packed with confidence? It doesn’t stand a chance. Five miles in, the ice rattles instead of crunches. By the first stop, you’re sipping lukewarm water and pretending it’s refreshing. Someone always says, “We should’ve brought more ice,” like that thought hasn’t already crossed everyone’s mind.

Your snacks.

Chocolate bars turn into abstract art. Gummies fuse into one massive blob. Granola bars soften into something suspicious. Summer rides teach you fast which snacks survive heat and which ones belong in a climate-controlled environment.

Your seat.

Black seats absorb the sun like it’s their job. You hop back in after a short break and instantly regret wearing shorts. The first five seconds feel like a personal challenge. Everyone does the same awkward hover-sit, hoping the heat magically disappears.

Your gear.

Gloves feel thicker. Helmets feel tighter. Goggles fog just enough to be annoying. You adjust everything constantly, convinced this next tweak will make you comfortable. It won’t, but hope is powerful.

Your patience with dust.

Dust becomes a personality trait in the summer. It coats your arms, sneaks into your helmet, and somehow ends up in your mouth. You slow down. The rider behind you speeds up. Everyone debates spacing like it’s a strategic meeting. Patience wears thin right along with visibility.

Your patience with slow sections.

Nothing tests your mood like crawling through rocks or switchbacks when the air refuses to move. You crave speed, not for fun, but for airflow. Every stop feels personal. Every delay feels unnecessary. You tell yourself it’s part of the ride, while silently begging for an open stretch.

Your water supply.

You start strong, sipping responsibly. Then the heat ramps up, and suddenly your hydration pack feels suspiciously light. Water breaks become sacred. Someone always offers a backup bottle, earning instant hero status.

Your idea of “just a quick ride.”

Summer rides stretch time in strange ways. The sun slows everything down. Breaks get longer. Shade stops multiply. What started as a quick loop turns into a half-day commitment, complete with trail-side lounging and storytelling.

Your complaints.

They melt away by the end. You load up dusty, tired, and sunbaked, but smiling. The views delivered. The trail tested you. The ride gave you something to laugh about later. Summer rides may melt your patience, your snacks, and your ice, but they also leave behind the kind of memories that keep you coming back.

And next time, you’ll still pack chocolate.