Don't kid yourself.
Apparently, the cure for what ails you is to load up a musette with 9 Hamm'ses and a quart of OJ to follow some ladies and their entourage up a fire road and onto some trails. Under a canopy of Redwoods, Bay Laurels, Madrones, and the like you might pop a top or several, slam the top 1/3 and fill with OJ to formulate a "Hammosa". You could share them with your fellows, pass around whatever you pass, and have a small (small) pinch from Christopher St. John's tube of wondrous materiel. That is, if riding loaded is to your taste. You know, on singletrack and such.
Or, not. As you like. Though it was pointed out to (not by) me that it takes a certain bent to ride the bikes and partay.
Monday (that's my Funday) saw a return to my monkish solo fixed road/off-road ramble. Inspired by the ant-like efficiency shown on the girls' birfday party ride, I brung the clippers and used my left hand to clear up a little of that bushy section under the tower. You know the part.
I stopped at Goodwill in Cside! and was sad these fine art pieces were for auction and not for grabs. You _uckers would be finding them in Velocaches for months. I was able to score a sweet bedroll:
Which was the perfect compliment to stopping on the bike path and taking pictures of hobo bikes:
This guy was sour to come back from the beer store and find me there stealing his bike's soul. I tried to mollify him by offering to erase the image, but he would not be assuaged and acted put upon and long-suffering.
"(sigh) No. You already took it. It's done."
I pointed out the fine technical aspects of his set-up and explained that I was/am genuinely enthused and we had us a conversation about living on bikes. It was worth it.
I didn't tell him I thought his white gas heater (contained in the big black bag on the trailer) was frivolous. Who am I to say?
Finally, it is prime mushroom season here on the Central Coast, so on the way home under the Monterey Pines I kept my eyes peeled...Granulated Slippery Jack ( Suillus granulatus) mushrooms IDed with the handy (pocket sized!) field guide titled All That the Rain Promises and More... and sauteed with onions, rosemary and oregano. Not the finest boletes available, but right there, fresh, and nowhere near unpleasant.
[those links are safe]
A full day.
And, plus there is the plan in place to spend this coming Saturday night riding trails under the Full Cold Moon from a hidden campsite at an undisclosed location nearby. If you are within the sound of my voice and you kick much ass, get at me.
I will bring the sweet bedroll, you bring the hobo trailer full up with beers.
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