7/6/2011 It was 8 am and the 7 cyclists orange jerseys began their morning routine. Gracefully wending in and out of each others ways, 1 from Australia, Phoebe, 1 from Japan, forgot his name and the rest from Canada. They had traveled from Canada to San Diego by bicycle to promote a company that does something with children in Africa. My details are scant, not that I wouldn’t like to give you more, we just never talked about it….
Goodbye fellow cyclists for causes and change=)
Time for me to ride, my lungs are mostly clear by now and I want to see a little bit of Dana Point before i leave tomorrow… My first interesting interaction was with a guy who I asked for directions to the Starbucks so I could borrow wiFi for the cost of a cup of coffee, not that they charge, but I was feeling the pull of my decaf soy infused Matcha razor… Turns out the gentleman has been homeless for a while and has ridden, hitched and walked back and forth across the US quite a few times. He was now staying in Dana Point, or, at least a 100 miles radius for the foreseeable future. He was dry at the moment but was heading out to get some beers and get the day started off right… He talked a fair bit and I cant remember how we got onto the subject, yes I can, we talked about camping outdoors as a result of our couchsurfing conversation and where I stay. Anyway, we were talking about him camping in an off limits place when he heard the sound of what he called, well, he says it best, “one a them historical birds, you know a Pterodactyl or sumthin”
“So I got out of the tent and looked around, didnt see nuthin’. Then there it was, peerin out of the bushes at me, I grabbed my fillet knife, big one, leather scabbard and all, and started slowly backing away….’
“Thats when it rushed out and passed me… I swear it, I saw the Sasquatch.”
His voice never rose or trembled, he would always look over his plastic sunglasses to make sure his point had been heard and you know, I believe him.
I made it to the Starbucks and sat down beside an older gentleman who is a lawyer and does big real estate deals. He had me watch his dog for a moment while he ordered coffee, I was happy to do it as the puppy had a face that no matter what your day may handed you or thrown direly at you with force to kill, this puppy (actually 8 years old), the face of an Angel…
When he came back out he met his younger partner a very nice lady and she promised that she would try and get me on the morning show and then gave me 16 dollars. 3rd person with the morning show promise=)
I left there and went to the bike shop close to the house I was staying at to pump up my tires with a pump other than my itty bitty road ninja pump. The older gentleman at the bike shop, and not a bike shop as you would think, this one was totally in the business of enginifying bikes, or adding gas or electric engines/motors to them. The Older guy who flipped on the air-compressor only to flip it off a second later as I have presta valves they all use the standard bigger Schraeder. In the process of talking it comes out that I started my biek ride in Lancaster, PA. Invariable this leads to what I now dub as “The Amish Conversation”. Which then led to talk of the Quakers and the Pennsylvania Dutch which led to talk of the original Christian order known simply as “The Way”, this is what he felt Jesus was part of and later the “Church” disbanded it to the winds so that the truth would be hidden and it would be easier to squeeze money out of people. He went on to say that while my bike ride was nice, there could only be true peace with the return of Christ, the Messiah, the second coming. Yaweh is the only peace on earth, anything else is corrupt and an abomination.
I said thanks and left.
I met Pat van Nuys OC bicycles and had a great chat about the world, Bicycling, how things must be sold to Americans to get them to take ownership and thoughts on the future. From here I went on the answer to everyone’s question of what is the most beautiful bike ride so far, well folks, it is from (for me) from Dana Point to just when you get to the Las Pulgas (sp?) gate at Camp Pendleton. At this point my ride which was mean to be quick and painless took on a very different role, one that in retrospect gave me plenty of sites to see…
At the gate the Marine asked me the question, “Do you have a bike helmet?”
“No, it was stolen in El Segundo”, this isnt to be funny (ref. Tribe Called Qwest – I left my Wallet in El Segundo), it’s what really went down, that and my bad ass ninja rain jacket, very fishy El Segundo, very tricky indeed….
“Who would steal a helmet…. Well, you cant ride your bike on my base”
“well I cant go back the way I came….. I can walk it…”
“Make sure you don’t ride or there will be problems, walk it the WHOLE WAY.”
Agreed and in hindsight would have agreed the same as it was the only way to go, you cant even walk your bike on the 5 freeway and the beach would’ve taken FOREVER and coated my chain with a nice coating of super fine sand.
I have not seen so many randomly discarded batteries in my life, nor have I witnessed so many dead hawks in such a short period of time and small, no, tiny geographic location.
I got to see Apache helicopters do their training exercises and armored personnel carriers down shifting right beside me and bogging me out with exhaust fumes from vehicles that are so far from eco-friendly they make Ford Excursions seem congenial to mother nature. All the while pushing my bike at a snails pace…
I finally got out a few hours later and quickly made my way to Scott’s home, a concert pianist, went grocery shopping,made a stir fry, had a private concert and sat in the jaccuzzi talking about quantum physics, algae diesel and rock n’ roll under a half moon.
Life rocks and it looks we, the human species is on a path of redemption, maybe we have been on the right path all along, after all, the only way the child learns not to touch the hot pot on the stove isn’t because mommy or daddy says not to, it is because it hurts and the child remembers the next time it sees a hot pot, it remembers the pain….
Lastly, while watching an episode of through the worm hole I asked the age old question, why do foreign singers not sound foreign when they use the English language? Answer – FINALLY – you sing with Vowels not consonants. Think about it=)