PRG Ride to Jebel Yibir — GenX Bikers Hit the Mountain Road

Today's ride with PRG: destination Jebel Yibir, mood — half rider, half patient. Who is the patient? Keep reading.

As always, the meet-up was at the ADNOC gas station, where the most important pre-ride ritual is Captain Mirza's briefing. Now, I have spent several videos making fun of his briefings. So this time he took his revenge: he grabbed me, made me stand right next to him, and forcibly delivered the entire briefing into my face. For the first time in PRG history, I actually listened to all of it.

The Back-Stretch Conspiracy

The ride began beautifully — engine hot, heart happy, a slight chill, cloudy sky, open road. After about an hour we stopped to stretch our backs. By now, regular viewers know exactly what that means. The excuse is the back, but the problem is something else. The truth is we're all a little old, and the bladder no longer shows loyalty. After straightening up (ahem), we set off again.

After so much smooth, graceful riding, one of the guys couldn't stand it. Silent riding wasn't his cup of tea — and suddenly, one wheel in the air, a proper wheelie playing out like a movie scene from every angle. We thought, let's do something too. Then my heart spoke up: son, do you remember the insurance? If you don't know how to fly, don't mess around.

VIP Mode and the Sixteen Silences

At the first checkpoint, Captain Mirza's personality did the paperwork. One sentence to the guard — let them go, Ustad ji — and we moved ahead in VIP mode. Then the real reward of Jebel Yibir unfolded: twisty curves and switchbacks, one after another, with only the gentle sound of the motorcycle and the silence of the valleys. In the video I shut up for a full minute and let you listen. It ranks among the best motorcycle roads in the UAE for a reason — the Burrito Brothers attacked this same mountain a few months earlier and dropped two bikes doing it.

Past another checkpoint we reached the end point, beyond which civilians aren't allowed, turned around and parked at a classic viewing spot. Photos, banter, and the joke that after seeing our group portraits we'd need to post matrimonial ads. And then the most beautiful thing: the brotherhood of bakars — several groups had gathered up there, and someone began serving hot sweet potatoes to everyone. We ate heartily.

This is the real bakar culture. Sharing food, sharing moments, sharing life. When we leave this world, the only luggage allowed is memories.

Old Men, Alive and Leaning

On the descent, that same brother showed us another level — literally kneeling into a corner, sparks flying, as if the motorcycle was about to win something. I got excited, took position, and then my heart said: brother, you're an old man, ride with courage but keep both knees employed. From a distance the convoy looked like a snake of mountain bikes winding from bottom to top and back down. Beautiful.

This wasn't just a ride. It was a reminder that we're still alive — we've just slowed down a bit. What a life even old men like us have. Ride safe, ride together, and sometimes stretching the back is necessary.

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