Totality Run of the SSC - Prologue

At Damnation Creek Trail - I love the fallen redwood and

how it is now home to several trees and dozens of ferns and mosses.

I’ve been told that a using a prologue is for presenting material out of sequence with the rest of the story so that’s what I’m doing with this post. Probably. I intend to write one or two more posts of our summer trip to be in totality for the eclipse, hike with Gene Mauk, see my folks, and travel down the Northern California Coast. This post is about or inspired by our run down from Merlin, Oregon to Ft. Bragg and our day in Mendocino and provides a look and feel of our trip throughout.

We left Merlin behind and took the back way out to the Redwood Highway (US 199). This is the only highway to pass through the Siskiyou Mountains of southern Oregon and connects Crater Lake National Park to the Redwood National Park. Merlin is about halfway between. We twisted our way through amazing forests, through Cave Junction and by pear orchards being worked and harvested. Almost immediately after passing through Crescent City, California we entered the Redwood National Park, one of our favorite places on the planet.

We have Ollie Verdoodle with us and we were on constant watch for where he was welcome. Our first stop in the forest was at the Damnation Creek Trailhead with its posted ‘no dogs on the trail’. We complied and took some photos around the parking area before moving on. I made some observations that lead me to the conclusion that people who heed signs about dogs and waste and cautions are the very ones who are best at taking their dogs along. The people who don’t heed them are the worst. In fact, the sight that most inspired this conclusion had nothing to do with dogs. It’s people. I won’t go into detail here but would if asked in a different medium.

We came to a trail that allows dogs – or at least does not post a ‘no dogs’ sign. The Ah Pah Interpretive trail is about ¼ mile long into the forest and then back out. It was amazing to say the least. The trail is along the pathway of an old logging road that was removed to reduce erosion. The signage is an educational tour of how things were with the road, why it was removed, and how things have improved by the road's removal. It was gratifying to see how the undergrowth bounced back given the chance. I was blessed by a quote I'll hold close to my heart:

“To cherish what remains of the Earth and to foster its renewal is our only legitimate hope of survival.” – Wendell Berry

We spent the early part of today, Sunday August 27, 2017, in Mendocino, a wonderful coastal town perched on the bluffs above Mendocino Bay. The weather was clear, something of a marvel mentioned here and there by the locals as we walked along the main street and around unique shops and eateries. We hiked out to the bluffs and down near the point with great tide pools and rock formations.

Notebook in one hand, monocular in the other, I scanned the kelp beds for sea otters from time to time while waiting for a gentle wave to deposit a bestselling idea in the tide pools below. Though none was laid at my feet the whole of the scene restored my soul, if you don’t mind my borrowing words from David. A thought crossed my mind, a wonder in itself that I’m capable of such a thing. But the wonder here, I think, is the benevolence of the sea lion to allow man to place a fog horn where he likes to sun himself.

Nature revealed herself – dolphin in the bay leading a small raft of murre, gulls floating overhead, Oyster Catchers working the muscle beds, a raven enjoying a seafood lunch, a starfish clinging to the cliff just above the waterline, cormorants winging past all the while as the sea lions accented the mournful tones of the fog horn with a chorus of barks.

We took lunch at the Trillium Café, a dog friendly concern, invitingly so. We ate on a deck overlooking the garden with a lilting fountain and had a view of the bay between the main street stores. It was the best lunch in a long time, with or without our canine companion along. He was so good and the food so tasty we just had to extend it with desert.

Sunset was coming on so we ducked into Fort Bragg’s Safeway and grabbed crackers and cheese and granola/fruit/yogurt parfaits for a dinner on the clifftops to watch Sol descend into the Pacific. A perfect ending to such a day.

Our trip is drawing to a close, one day on the road with a too-short time in Pacific Grove/Monterey before running the rest of the way to SoCal. It’s been filled with many wonderful things and people, as I hope to show in the coming posts. Cindy and I remarked to each other that this will have been the longest time we’ve been away from home together. And we’ve loved it all.

Ollie and me enjoying the sunset on the bluffs of Fort Bragg

Memorial Day Rumination

I am the son of parents who met while serving in the US Navy during the Korean War. Two of my uncles served in the Navy and one of those uncles, my Uncle Bill, had two sons who served; one in the Navy and the one in the US Air Force. None of them were injured or killed while in the service. Their holiday is more rightfully Veterans’ Day.

Memorial Day is a day of remembrance for those who died while serving in the armed forces. The day was initiated in 1868 and was held on May 30th up to 1972 when the day of remembrance was moved to the last Monday in May. There will be parades, gatherings at memorials in parks and shopping malls all around, and some will visit the gravesites of the fallen where volunteers have placed American Flags at the gravesides.

I have not served our country in the armed services and I don’t know anyone personally who has given the ultimate sacrifice for freedom. I was in the last draft lottery that brought young men into the service to send them off to Viet Nam. I often say that I’m just as glad Uncle Sam didn’t invite me in for a trip to Southeast Asia. In fact, I repeated that sentiment to Eric just a few days ago when I ran into him during a walk in Crescenta Valley Park. Eric was our starting center on the ’71-’72 Glendale Community College team, the Vaqueros. Shortly after our game on the day our lottery numbers came out I remember hearing Eric’s exclamation from the front of the bus as he realized he was drafted. I was well above the top number to be called at 253.

While I make that statement from time to time it is not entirely true. My father was aboard the aircraft carrier USS Point Cruz somewhere near Korea the day I was born. Cindy and I had an opportunity because of an overly long port of call during a recent cruise to tour the USS Midway in San Diego. I was thrilled all the while I went from cabin to cabin, command centers and through the flight and hanger decks while getting just a feel for what my dad went through. We came home and I got the name of his ship from my mom to do some research on it and wrote my dad a letter about his ship, added some old photos, and talked about my experience on the Midway. In the letter I made a confession to him that until that time I hadn’t told anyone – I wish that I had enlisted in the service out of high school rather than flail about in college for the first couple of years.

Though I did not serve I nevertheless mourn the loss of young lads and lasses that I would have served with had I gone into service. I mourn those who are injured and killed in every conflict and act of terrorism. We memorialize the fallen – as a country, as communities, as families, and as individuals. We create space to remember them in some way with special to ourselves.

I lost one of my best of friends while in my twenties to a car accident with a drunk driver. I still don’t completely understand God’s reasoning for it but I’ve gotten over the bitterness of it thanks to the laying on of hands and the prayers of a very special group of junior high kids and their advisers. Since losing Doug I found myself at Bass Lake over an occasional Memorial Day weekend, a place he and I went a couple of times with his parents’ boat and skied like crazy. To memorialize my friend I’d walk down to the lake from my grandparents’ home and stroll along Ski Beach until I found someone willing to take me out for a memorial run. Ski people can be very accommodating. I’d ski the crap out that lake either until my new friends got tired of it or I wiped out in some spectacular fashion. Nowadays I have a Dr. Pepper and lift it to him in memory. You see? It’s the little ways we can remember those we’ve lost and it’s all fine and good as long as it keeps the warmth of their memories close to us without sending us into the cold of bitterness. Bitterness doesn’t do us nor anyone close to us any good. It took a small miracle for me to find that out for myself.

What does this have to do with Memorial Day 2017? Well, there are hundreds of thousands of people memorializing their fallen today, mourning their losses, and some have every right to be bitter. I pray they don’t fall to bitterness or if they have then some miracle takes place for each one and they find those that will comfort them.

All in all, remember our lost well, keep warm memories of them alive, and pray for peace.

jerry

Spring Into Action

Harbingers of Spring are everywhere. Our front yard is a riot of clover sporting bright yellow flowers, everything is green, buds are at the tip of every living branch, and the pines are losing a deluge of pollen – everything standing still outdoors has a fine yellow coating and I dared not take a Sunday afternoon nap out on the porch. The occurrence that truly sets up Spring is Daylight Savings Time and the setting of our clocks ahead one hour which took place the night before.

Cindy had just left for a night shift at the hospital and I sat at this keyboard with a view of our riotous front yard and the birdfeeder visited by increasingly colorful birds. I had, and still have, things I needed to write, things I should have been doing and so I wrote the following Facebook post thinking that would do the trick and I’d dive right in:

“Such a conundrum; the house emptied out, there's an extra hour of sunlight, and a motorcycle in the garage...and my "God Said, 'Let's Ride'" tee shirt in the drawer.”

I may have been all right had I not added the tee shirt quote but I did and I listened to it call me. Less than ten minutes and I was coursing down Freeman Avenue and off for an opportunistic ride with staying off the freeways as my only requirement. I rode up Foothill Boulevard to Big Tujunga Canyon and took it through the neighborhood of Sunland/Tujunga into the foothills and on to the Angeles Forest Highway where I opted to head on up to the Angeles Crest Highway and down into La Canada. Just under an hour later and in a little less than forty miles I had sprung into action and was returned home. Some itches need to be scratched.

As I entered Big Tujunga Canyon with the stream-bed on my left and mountainside to my right I had the evening sun still streaming into the canyon at my back setting it up so that I was riding sweep to my shadow. My shadow kept a better line through the twisties than I did and I wasn’t bothered by that in the least. Once I rounded a particular long bend in the road I lost him anyway and I was on my own again.

At one point I rode directly under a drone and thought how nice it would have been to be carrying Mississippi’s sidearm of choice from El Dorado, a holstered sawed off shotgun. I could have taken that thing out without gearing down and rode on completely at ease. Wistfully I remembered Magnum’s satisfaction when he blew Higgins’ gas powered remote control plane from the Hawaiian skies.

The roads were clear enough that I never had to slow down for a soul with a few riders and cars passing me the other way. I did pull over for a string of cars - a mix of sports and muscle cars - and then had fun staying on their six until we reached Angeles Crest Highway where we went our separate ways.

I was able to catch the sun setting through the canyons as couples embraced while sitting on the hoods of their cars parked in the viewpoints to watch it set, and photographers snapped photos as the glorious orb went to rest for the night. My helmet cam didn’t do it justice but that’s the way of the photograph, they rarely catch what the mind tells us our eyes see.

Coming down the last stretch of twisties I was able to look out over the LA Basin in early evening light to see the marine layer coming in to consume the buildings leaving islands of skyline far below me.

All in all it was a pleasant resolution to my conundrum. Spring into action my friends and when you do, keep the iron side up.

Peace

jerry

My video heading into Big Tujunga Canyon: note here that not one sport biker returned my biker's solute. 

Stay Tuned - A Biker's Sonar

Group Ride - Laughlin - February 11, 2017

During our recently completed Laughlin Ride weekend I had plenty of opportunities to contemplate the phenomenon of the group ride. We had the rides out and back to Laughlin that grew in numbers at various meet points along the way out and that dwindled at freeway junctions on the way home and then we had a fun-ride filled with potholes, canyon runs with twisties, mountain passes with twisties, and a town full of burros – vigilance required at every stage.

For the record, I consider anything from three bikes on up to be a group ride. Two bikes is pairs-riding even though many of the things I’ll talk about below apply, it feels like a different animal to me to the point that I have a different bikers’ solute for three or more riders in a line where I go from the easygoing down-low salute to a fist pump, my Howitzer solute for the last rider in the line.

When we ride we need to use all our senses to maintain a heightened degree of situational awareness. I confess though that as I write this I’m struggling with where the sense of taste comes into play, feel free to weigh in on this. Your sense of smell can tell you about skunkage on the road ahead or a particularly nasty diesel truck laboring around the next bend. Our sense of touch helps integrate us with our own machine and how it’s running as well as tell us about the condition of the tarmac under our wheels.

Our sense of hearing in a group ride is our rider’s sonar as we take in information from other riders, the road, and drivers. Let me set the stage at bit; the two most well-known types of sonar for those of not working with the technology are active and passive sonar.

Active sonar is where the device sends out a ping and listens for the echo off a given target to measure size, distance and speed of the object. I can draw a little parallel here for riders’ sonar such as when our eyes lock onto an item of interest and our ears tune in for confirmation as when we see flashing lights we listen for the siren to tell us if it’s moving or stationary. This tells us what the signature is of the obstacle we are about to encounter. It’s not a perfect corollary but it works for me.

Passive sonar is strictly listening. Naval vessels, particularly submarines, use sonar to locate targets or obstacles. Submarines live and die by sonar, both active and passive. Regarding the sub’s passive sonar; it is a system of listening devices at various points on the sub or even trailed in the water behind. These are all fed into computers these days that run algorithms to tell range, speed, and location. One of the best examples of passive sonar use that comes to mind can be found in The Hunt for Red October where Jonesy detects the Russian sub and its revolutionary propulsion system. The link to the relevant scene is found at the end of this post.

Our riders’ passive sonar is hardly passive; it requires us to tune into all the relevant noises around us while filtering those extraneous sounds from cluttering up our attention. While riding in a group, particularly from the number three spot back to the sweep, we need to listen to the sounds of those ahead of us. Decelerations in RPMs, even backfires, warn us of a pending need to slow down. Accelerations tell us where we can expect to speed up through an apex on the turn. Break lights are fine but if like me, you happen to riding behind folks who are particularly adept at throttle control and the use of gearing to maintain proper speeds, their engine sounds are a vital clue.

Of course, our vision is number one. There is no substitute for seeing and being seen. Our eyes must tune to the road ahead to pick out lines through the twisties, road hazards, the action of other drivers and riders, and seeing the riders in front point out road hazards and giving warning hand signals. Lifehack has a nice article called ’12 Motorcycle Hand Signals You Should Know’:

http://www.lifehack.org/articles/lifestyle/12-motorcycle-hand-signals-you-should-know.html

Regarding the thought that loud pipes saves lives; if that is where you put your trust then you ride in a weak position. Relying on someone in a cage with the sound system blaring and kids screaming or passengers yammering in a car that advertised itself as quiet is trust ill placed. Personally, I prefer relying on being seen and knowing that I’ve been seen and even when I know I’ve been seen I don’t trust that the driver isn’t a nutcase. I spend precious little time in anyone’s blind spot.

The bottom line is to keep our senses finely tuned to the ride and everything about our riding environment. So tune in first, put your kickstand up second, and enjoy the ride. 

Keep it real and keep the iron side up.

Peace

jerry

UTube link to Jonesy’s Report in The Hunt for Red October:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y7g6dKncO-I

Admiral, There Be Burros Here - Ride for Fun - Laughlin 2017

There were bikers and pirates, babes and hedgehogs,
and then there were visions in the clouds

Jed planned a fun-ride for our Saturday of the Laughlin 2017 weekend over roads that could be ridden for the sheer joy of riding and included interesting stops for sights and sounds and experiences that, in and of themselves, were worth the stop. We twisted and turned, glided up and down, and all the while passed through scenery that was stunning. Oh, and the bouncing - we can’t forget the bouncing; it was rumored at the time that someone left a spleen on relatively short section of old Highway 40. Or was that Route 66? ...my brain got scrambled.

KSU was 8:30 in the morning with a planned late breakfast at Topock 66 on the banks of a quiet estuary of the Colorado River, just off Historic Highway 66. Another group of Victory riders were scheduled for a later KSU and joined us in time for some give and take, adding and switching of groups and post-meal rides. Topock 66 seems to have an affinity for butts; even their bar stools for butts are… well butts. Photos of patrons adorn the walls. No, you won’t find me there; they’ll only stoop so far.

Regarding the meal at Topock 66, I had a great omelet. The waitress heard that it was Shawn’s birthday and presented him with an excellent desert that triggered a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. There were some rumors that Shawn may have milked the birthday thing but I believe it was a spontaneous outpouring of love for the man and, even if it was true that he worked it bit, it was well deserved. Again, happy birthday friend. Back to the food and service, both were great. I didn’t hear any complaints on either but I may have had my crap-filter turned up high.

Parking at Topock 66

Dockside at Topock 66

We continued on Route 66 until we came to Oatman, Arizona. To get there we traveled through desert-scapes that held a patina of greens covering the color pallet. The rains have inspired a rush of growth in the mesquite, Joshua Trees, shrubs, and grasses. The red and yellow cliffs jutting up along our canyon runs are spectacular. The roads and riding were awesome, definitely on my list of favorite rides.

Admiral, there be burros here! Almost as soon as we had our bikes parked we saw the town burros making their way along the main street looking for likely softhearted souls to feed them. Warning, take caution if you are carrying a brown paper bag, with or without burro treats in it, they are a magnet for the burros and some are more aggressive than others. The tale is that it was a miner’s burro that discovered gold which gave rise to the town, listed as a “Census-designated place” in Mohave County, Arizona. The actors who performed the mock gun fight referred to the town as a mining camp. Now the street is lined with curio and gift shops, make-shift museums, and such. Worth the visit in any case and the burros are generally kind and docile. Several of our Victory friends were already there having come in from other directions and destinations. Off highway vehicles of various shapes and sizes rolled into town and the mix of burros, dirt bikes, highway bikes, and family vehicles made for a busy street.

Donna Doval and friends
in Oatman

Donna and Sue and the Oatman Mutual Admiration
Society

We left Oatman and continued along a winding Route 66 to make a stop at Cool Springs for some history and a panoramic view of the desert. Cool Springs was the inspiration for Radiator Springs in the Disney Cars movies. Additionally, the older structure was used in an explosive scene in Universal Soldier and later restored. The docent at the museum housed there gave us a great reading and viewing of the history of the place and then took the photo of our group that is as of this writing, my Facebook cover photo and shown below.

While at Cool Springs we heard burros calling out to each other but were unable to spot them they are so camouflaged to their desert surroundings. We saw plenty of evidence along the road but only laid eyes on them in Oatman.

Outback at Cool Springs

Cool Springs and the Gang

We rolled back into Laughlin having put in around 130 miles of good tight riding through red-rock canyons and dazzling high-desert scenery that gives one an understanding of why folks choose to live in deserts though I confess I’m more of a beach and/or mountain person.

We arrived early enough to freshen up before gathering here or there. I ended up in the Jed and Sue Suite on the ninth floor overlooking the river walk. (more on this as a postscript) After a wine tasting experience about thirty or so ended up at the Colorado Belle Loading Dock for dinner. Offhand I’d say those who partook of the buffet came out ahead with the exception of the rib rack Jeb worked on. It was, as most rider’s gatherings are, a time for catching up, reliving the ride, talking out news of the day, and looking out to the future.

Keep it real and keep the iron side up.

Peace

jerry

Postscript – regarding the suite, I dare say someone would be unhappy if I didn’t cover a significant event that normally I’d let slide into the fog of myth and memory. We were instructed to pay no attention to the women behind the curtain. If Toto were in the room there would have been a startling reveal to rival that which occurred at Oz. It was over in a flash, shrieks filled the room, glasses continued to clink. They pointed down at the river walk where a Peeping Tom was seen, camera in hand though a professional camera w/ sporting lens would have been more up to the task of capturing the sight and the only evidence that anything occurred at all were four telling smudges on the window.

Destination Ride - Laughlin 2017

Approaching Laughlin and yes, I did fix the my crooked
horizon for later ride segments

Outbound destination ride completed February 10, 2017 to Laughlin, Nevada. A destination ride is one which is taken for the purpose of arriving at a particular end-point for a particular purpose; Laughlin was the particular end-point, the particular purpose was – is actually since I’m in my room at the Aquarius Casino Resort as I type up this report – to gather with friends, renew old acquaintances, make new ones, enjoy the amenities of the hotel/casino, take a ride for enjoyment… I’m sure you’re getting the picture here.

Don’t misunderstand me; riding for the purpose of arriving at a spot on the map is, nevertheless, riding. I’ve taken my bike to plenty of places I needed to be or otherwise would have gone via some other conveyance. I’ve ridden to Merlin, Oregon to visit my parents, ditto to Klamath Falls, OR. I ride to church from time to time to worship and add a certain a coolness factor to the parking lot. When I worked in an office, I used to commute to it. The overall sense of riding is rarely lost altogether. Sometimes it’s dimmed due to the event or shaded with emotions because of the event. For instance, memorial rides. And, I once rode to Fresno for an Aunt’s memorial service. While we like to call them celebrations of life they are infused with a sense of melancholy while we remember the lost and thus the ride is shaded somewhat, neither good nor bad.

For the ride out to Laughlin, it got progressively better as the ride went along. I left my home fully dressed for rain to arrive a bit early at the meet spot in Santa Clarita where I was joined by six others – Tim & Bev, Jed & Sue, Shawn, and Todd. We rolled out in a nice tight grouping and headed up the pass toward Palmdale to skirt the desert community along the Highway 138 out to Victorville. I love riding with these people (and the others I rode with later in the day) who ride with an easy discipline that is comfortable even when I end up stretching my comfort zone.

At Victorville we doubled our numbers as we added five bikes including two two-up couples – Dale & Jeanie, Andy & Jane, along with Karen, Steve, and Keith. The final bike tally for our ride out was 1 Can-Am Spider, 1 Harley Electra-glide, 1 Victory Vegas, 5 Victory Cross Countries, and 5 Victory Visions. We made a short hop up Highway 15 to Barstow for my best meal of the day at Oggi’s Sports Brewhouse.

When our twelve bikes rolled out of the service station we encountered our only problem for the group as we merged on to a busy section of Highway 15. As a testament to the group’s skill and demeanor, it took a short five miles to regroup without any heroics or dangerous and inconsiderate riding. These people are awesome!

Our ride up the 15 was without incident and we eventually left the freeway for two-lane highways which included a gas stop at Ludlow, CA. where I took an unplanned trip down memory lane as we reformed to continue on to Laughlin when I hopped down to take a look at an AT&T radio site that I used to do the planning for. It’s still there and in good shape.

Regarding my choice to ride fully outfitted for rain: I did that in order to forestall the need to actually ride in the rain and it worked pretty well. I peeled it off for lunch at Oggi’s but judiciously donned it once again before heading out. The weather reminded me that our truce was a tenuous one at best and I maybe should have left the suit on during lunch. I caught about twelve drops while moving up the onramp. However, I felt sufficiently respected by the weather for my efforts and stripped the suit off for good at Ludlow and did not have rain the rest of the weekend while riding.

As we approached Laughlin riders peeled off to their various accommodations for the weekend to gather later for dinner, music, and some little high-jinks. All in all it was a good day on the road and in the destination with a bunch of quality people.

That evening we indulged in pursuits commensurate with our stated purpose at our intended destination. Larger groups gathered for dinner and camaraderie at various sites in the town. The most interesting gathering for me was in the Jed and Sue suite where each person to come through the door was greeted with a rousing cheer.

Keep it real and keep the iron side up.

Peace

jerry

aka - Shakespeare

Run of the Amoeba - 2017 New Year's Day Ride to Malibu

Consider the amoeba – a single cell organism containing all the functions of life within a single membrane; nucleus (control), ingestion of nutrients, and elimination of waste. That’s right, all amoeba, like people, have one. Amoeba move via protoplasmic flow, or extending pseudopods in any given direction and the rest of the cell following along. Ingestion of nutrients is via phagocytosis, extending pseudopods to encircle prey or scavenged materials.

Reproduction is most famously achieved via asexual binary fission. The amoeba pulls in all pseudopods to form a more circular cell, the nucleus then splits and the pieces separate to opposite ends of the cell and the cells splits in two. Our lady riders will be pleased to know that these two cells are known as daughter cells. Thus the amoeba is cloned and the two cells move along to their purpose.

Typical Amoeba

Atypical bikes for today's Amoeba Run

Tim Robertson suggested the analogy a few days before our 2017 New Year’s Day ride to Duke’s in Malibu for their Sunday Breakfast Buffet. It was with this analogy in mind that I met up with the other riders at the Mobile Station in Newberry Park for New Year’s hugs all around - Tim and his excellent wife Bev, Jed and his amazing Sue, Shawn, the incomparable Vicki, and myself. This group of riders fits the Amoeba analogy to a tee. We formed up and rode through Potrero Canyon to Oxnard where we made a stop at the Point Mugu Missile Park for a photo op.

I rode sweep for this first section, a position in the ride group I rather like. I suppose it is the mother-hen part of my personality, or better yet, the sheepdog part. Or maybe I just like having everyone in front so they don’t see my goofs on the road. This all changed when we reformed the group after the amoeba stretched out a bit coming off PCH onto the Mulholland Highway. At that point Vicki took the sweep and was treated to a couple of deviations on my part; nothing serious as I could see that I had a clear enough road to come back into the lane. I guess even in the bits of the amoeba cell can get too close to each other and cause a spasm of sorts. I’d let the gap between me and Shawn close a bit too much and didn’t have room to gracefully slow down into a curve and went wide with my late reduction in speed. Ah well.

The day was ideal; chilly, but nothing reasonable cold-weather gear couldn’t handle. And, even though we’d had some good rain the two days prior, there was very little in the way of storm debris along the canyon roads and everyone did the group ride thing of pointing out the occasional rock or gravel for those following. We practiced a little phagocytosis at the Rock Store when Todd, who had just finished his breakfast, saw us coming and jumped on his Vision to take the sweep from there to Duke’s in Malibu. He helped round out our table for eight for the very good buffet, stimulating conversation, and a stunning view of the Pacific.

Arrival at Duke's Malibu

As with any group ride, goodbyes are said before everyone mounts up for the last leg of the ride and this we did in the parking lot of Duke’s. The amoeba reformed and headed north from Duke’s on PCH to catch Kanan Dume Road heading to the interior. The process of binary fission started at Highway 101 and continued on until every rider and bike was at their home base, safe and sound.

For all that; the ride, the riders, food, comradery, and most importantly, the safe arrival home, I am well and truly thankful.

Vicki Peterson created a splendid video of our day, the link can be found below.

Whenever you find yourself in a ride-group, remember the amoeba and know that you perform a critical function to the organism, whatever it might be, and keep the iron side up.

Peace

jerry

Vicki's well done video with great musical selections: