I'll never forget mountain biking fifteen years ago in Moab:

It was about 90 degrees and my friends and I were riding up over a narrow, hairy ridge on the latest mountain bikes. We're all in the latest cycling getup with fancy shoes, Camelbacks etc. We get to the top and hit a very technical slickrock section. We're thinking we're pretty hardcore. We go around a corner and there's a 65+ year old guy on an ancient, rusty Schwinn Varsity wearing, no joke, plaid golf pants and Converse Stan Smiths. Just non-chalantly riding around on fairly insane slickrock.

Yeah, we didn't feel too hardcore anymore.