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[ST] Ride Report [long] NEW FAVORITE ROAD



So...what a great weekend!! Grace gave me the best present of all...time to ride.

Friday, I took the day getting up to a friends house in Marin...110 > 5 > 58 > 101 > 46 > 33 > 198 > 101 > G13 > 25 > 101

Stopped in Gilroy, saw a bad movie, decided to press on; rode the 101 > 280 > SF > 101 to Mill Valley and my friend Leslie's house. Got there about 10:00; she wasn't home (out with new - putative - fella), they woke me at 1:00 arguing, then again at 8:00 arguing, so I went out for a cocoa and a paper. Hung out in downtown Mill Valley for a while ... talked to a fabric artist whose husband rides ... looked at amazing eye candy (it was the weekend of the film festival, and lots of would-be and maybe-are actresses were walking around, with photogs in tow. Started to ride back to Leslie's , but it was a perfect day, and she lives just above Tam Junction, where Highway 1 to Stinson Beach starts out...so I found myself heading out Highway 1. Astoundingly beautiful. Came over a rise and around a corner, and the Pacific was there...a little bay, whose name I've never known, with a rock in the middle, shrouded in mist. A real Fleetwood Mac/LOTR moment. 

Picked up some traffic, and as I worked my way to the front, heard a twin coming up behind. He passed me and the car, and I tucked in behind as he took off...a Mille R, big guy in leathers, license plate from from San Mateo.

At that point, I thought about it...how many problems can I find with this sentence: "I followed a local guy who I don't know riding a Mille R down twisty roads." and backed out and let him go.

Looked at the time, and it was almost noon. Ride into Point Reyes, and saw the Aprilia guy dismounting along with a bunch of other bikes in front of a restaurant. I pulled in, and as I walked up to the guy, he went "Hi, Marc!!"

I looked at him blankly. 

"I'm from 989/Sony. We met about the Supercross game." Oh!! The light went on. he'd given me a 'Cool Boarder' jacket, then we sold the game to EA...he said he forgave me.

We have a (great) lunch, and start talking riding and roads. I have to be in Berkeley for a party at 5:00, and need to shower and change first (Leslie left for Ohio, I called an apologized for vanishing, then she apologized and we'll have dinner one day and it'll be OK).

So we take off, and I have a NEW FAVORITE ROAD OF ALL TIME for now.

Marshall-Petaluma Road.

Wow. Great.

Small (but tow lanes with a painted stripe), twisty, bumpy, but clean. Lots of technical two- and three- apex corners, nice scenery, some ups and downs, and most of all -- SIGHTLINES!! I can carry speed through the corners!! Awesome...

...then around to Sir Frances drake, which is close. The Sheriff tells us there has been a car-bicycle accident, with a fatality, and the cars wound up in the reservoir. So we stop for a drink, and I take off down Lucas Valley Road; another great road, but lots of construction (damn Star Wars!!) and hence dirty.

Back to Marin...

...shower, change into presentable clothes, and suddenly there's a knock at the door.

I'm expecting Leslie's sister, who will doubtless be shocked to find me there, but it's a little old guy with a long white beard, baggy pants, and a briefcase. I'm still buzzing from the ride, so I say the first thing that comes to mind..."You don't look like a Jehovah's Witness!"

He laughs, and explains that he built my house. I explain that it isn't mine, and he gives me the original 1962 sales brochure and writes his name and number on it in a neat architect's hand. I promise that Leslie will call him. I'm in a hurry to get going, but he isn't, and launches into a series of stories about buying the lot and building the house.

My favorite: 

"There was a shack on the lot next door that I had to buy to get this lot, so I rented it for a while to a young woman on welfare and her baby. The father came back and moved in - he was black, and all the neighbors were in an uproar, but there was nothing I was going to do about it - then she moved out with the baby and took off, and he lived there by himself for a couple of months. Then one day he burned it down.

Seems he wrote a love poem to her, and set it on fire and put a couple of burning pages in each room, so the smoke would somehow bring her back to him, and the carpet caught on fire, and next thing you know...

...he went to jail for it, not for a long time, I mean he didn't mean to do it, but the insurance company had to pay up and if they did, why someone was going to go to jail, so it had to be him. He had gone to college and everything. This was about 1961 or maybe 62."

Then he shook my hand and drove off in his Toyota Corolla.

I went to Berkeley for the (depressing) party, then rode south to Gilroy and spent the night.

Woke up, another beautiful day.

Packed everything up, took 

101 > 25 > 190 > Pear Valley > Indian Valley > 101 > 58 > 5 and home...home about 3:00.

Picked up some Harley dressers on 25; they were being ridden amazingly well...when I caught up to them I couldn't believe they could be going that fast...I hung back and just watched. So smooth, I was awed. Another reminder that it's the rider, not the bike.

Saw lots of riders in the BA; almost everyone, even the cruiser folks wear gear. 

Rear view mirrors, however, seem to have the same status that turn signals have here in Ellay. No one seems to use them.

I must have closed on ten or fifteen riders (and been passed by that many or more) and NO ONE looked in the mirrors or acted like they saw me. I mean, I have a freaking modulator, high-intensity headlights, and I wear a Hi-Viz 'Stich. How hard can it be, people??

It my just be the kind of arrogance I saw in SF and in Berkeley, where people were making left turns from the #2 lane...blocking traffic back for blocks, with no apparent concern on their part.

*scratches head*

Anyway, I'm a happy rider.

I'm back in Monterey next weekend, for Grace's award ceremony, so if any Bay Area folks (like a certain beer-brewing ST owner in Gilroy) want to ride Saturday, drop me a note offlist.


Marc D, turning gasoline into CO2 and happiness.


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