I sent my character PAR up the Pacific
Coast Highway from Santa Monica as far north as Refugio State Beach and he
loved it as have I on several occasions. For the second of his two-day bike
rental, a Triumph Bonneville, he opted to ride south on PCH as far as Dana
Point where the US 1 hands over PCH responsibility to the US Highway 5. To
sketch out the scene I took our 2005 LA & Orange Counties Thomas Guide and
went page for page from Santa Monica to Dana Point. I had the black and white
version down but it needed color so I planned to take that ride myself this
past Friday; December 5, 2014, for the record.
I headed
my Victory Cross Country down the hill at just after six in order to get through
L.A. commuter traffic before it built up but I got bogged down on the 10 east.
It took an hour to reach a beach parking lot where I set up a GPS route for Power
Sports in Long Beach/Harbor City to meet up with Cyndi L and Keith, her friend,
at ten. I calculated that I would have at least an hour and a half in remote
office nearby before meeting up, but due to a transposed entry on my GPS it
turned out I had a little less than an hour there, enough time for note taking
and my morning drink, a Diet DP.
From my map review I knew that the early
going would be strictly urban with the route inland as opposed to actually
being on the coast. Still, I was on the right side of US 1 with traffic heading
to the airport on the south side and away from it on the north side.
I had expected that from Seal Beach on down it would be really coastal for nice long stretches. I was wrong in my
assumption but right about needing to ride the route to write it well. We did
have a nice stretch around the Bolsa Chica Wetlands and Huntington Beach but it
was stop and go with controlled intersections and moderate + traffic
congestion. PCH is a long roadway with businesses on either side traversing
city handoffs without a lot of fanfare. My clutch hand was worked overtime and
we only had glimpses of the Pacific Ocean at cross streets. There were rare
stretches where PCH was next to the beach with only a sidewalk between. Still,
we were riding and it was good to see the surf and bike shops, the health food
stores, and auto malls of the coastal cities and that California had earned at
least of portion of its reputation with the rest of the country.
I could have done a Google street view of
the route to get that much; a black and white view of what was months in the past.
What I got with the ride was color and feel. We passed through at least three
towns announcing the planned closure of PCH for Christmas Parades. We had an
escort of young guy with the top down on his silver Camaro who just could not
get enough of seeing Cyndi on her customized Victory High Ball being escorted
by two old guys. I would not have had the pleasant memories flood back as we
rolled through Laguna Beach of the great two-day getaway with my Cindy. We
wouldn’t have gotten the feeling of sitting at the signal at Laguna Canyon and
watching a two-man girl’s beach volleyball game and the two guys shooting hoops
with the sand stretching out to the steel-blue Pacific behind them. Only the
ride will tell you those things about the route and yourself, things that lines
on a map or a street view photo can only hint at.
Guess
what; it’s the same with people. You can only get so much by looking at
Facebook photos and posts. I’ve enjoyed watching the progression of Cyndi’s
bike on our group page and had seen her pink hued bangs and the tips of her hair
and have thought, “This lady really likes
pink and rivals the pink lady of Paradise Cove.” When I rode into the parking lot at Power
Sports Cyndi was walking through. She was decked out in her new pink riding
boots, pink-suede chaps with tasteful fringe, and her white on black Victory
riding jacket. Her bangs were held back by a wide pink headband with the back
braided showing pink tips. She rides with a half-helmet with pink flames and be-jeweled
silver highlights. She goes very well with her bike and its custom paint, the
grape-laden vines running down the tank to the rear fender and her custom
Corbin seat – black and burgundy with the pink lotus that Cyndi had made
herself.
The
pink that I had pre-conceived changed throughout the morning as I watched her
ride; confident, consistent, and comfortable. While we all talked over
lunch her color changed to the color of an orchid or fuchsia, or the color you’d get when
slicing a particularly fine zinfandel grape. Only the ride will tell you things
like that.
And
Keith? Well, I had no preconceived notions to erase about him. My sketch-notes show that he’s recently come
to California, still has a Tennessee license plate on the back-up bike he road
with us, a blacked-out Kawasaki V-Twin. He doesn’t mind sprinting out with a
Camaro convertible but sets a nice pace when he leads. I’d ride with him any
time and I liked hearing about riding in the mountains of Tennessee. Only the
ride told me that.
Y’all keep the iron side up.
