I check my pulse and the pulse of my friend

Living in the shadow of groovy times. My brother and niece came to town for a week's worth of Goodness.

One night I invited him to accompany me on a pub crawl via bicycles and he reluctantly agreed. I did not tell him we were going to see Lyle Lovett and his large band play at the Golden State Theatre (est. 1927, bicthes), and when we pulled up he was suitably floored. He told me then he had thought I was just being a Bike Nazi (his term) again. I have dragged him on some dubious outings in the past, but still. Anyways, if Lance Armstrong's life is detailed in a movie (you know, prior to his presidential run) well, Lyle oughta play him. Later, we were asked to leave Alfredo's Cantina- ok, given the choice between that or having the police escort us from the premises.

One of the other things we did was to take that bicycle surrey




and ride it out to Marina to the beach. Those things are singlespeed like you read about, and the seats do not adjust... Shut up, strap a Chrome messenger back pack full of iced beers and juice boxes (on account of the waterproof truck tarp construction, see) on the back, hang a few tens of more lbs of picnic goods, towels, toys and several sporadic-at-best-pedaling freeloaders off it and ride.


We parked it out on top of the dunes and hiked down. I'd guess it is about 11 miles out to this spot. The sharp eyed among you will recognize this venue from previous velocache! action.


Hike down.




Raw and uncut footage here.



...attack.


etc.





Hike up.





The surrey, just where we'd left it.


Everone looks real enthused on the way back. We checked the brakes on the way out prior to hitting this section of trafficked mall/bikepath interface. They worked. But barely.

It was a hot sweaty Good Time in the sun.