Thursday, Jun 16, 2016
Major WWWobble writes
Five riders met at Alice’s for a loosely organized MWR this morning. Weather forecast warned of rain. Major WWWobble, sensing how these things go, packed raingear. Therefore… skies were not cloudy all day. Warm weather. Paul, Tim, John, Randy, and WWWobble discussed route plans in the STP parking lot.
“Where do you wanna go?” “Uh, I dunno, where do YOU wanna go?” This is not a Captain led ride. There is no Smoking Man to herd the group along some semi-determined route. HOWEVER, Randy steps up. “How about we head south on Skyline, west on Alpine, left on Pescadero, over the hill, then south to Gazos Creek Road and follow it to the end? After that we can have lunch in Pescadero. SETTLED. We have a plan. And a leader.
And a dead end ride to go to.
Yeah, we know Gazos is a one way deal, a tasty little road following the creek, large green ferns lining the creek bed, really 3.5 miles each way of considerable beauty. It ends at a Camp and a Nature Preserve [gated], and we were treated to the arrival of a 13 month old Great Dane Puppy. On approach it looked like the puppy was driving, but no, there was a nice lady who was actually controlling the compact car. The puppy just HULKED UP behind her. I don’t think anybody got pix of the pup, because as large as she was, she was fast, and pent up with energy for a run past the forbidden gate.
Puppy and lady departed into the Forbidden Zone, we retraced our wheel tracks back to the main Gazos Creek Road, onto the coast highway, and then forward to Pescadero for lunch. WWWobble entertained by backing into an errant “telephone” pole, located close to the sidewalk and standing for no apparent reason. FJR is fine. We’ve hit harder stuff. Pole is still standing. Let’s eat.
Good food at the Pescadero Market and Deli. Lot’s of conversation about bikes, houses, taxes, moving, Brazil, traffic tickets, and also, …pay attention this is important…. how Randy should park his R1200S in WWWobble’s garage during his investigation of SoCal living. The bike would be cared for, ridden weekly to keep seals freshly oiled and battery charged, and offer that SHOULD NOT be refused.
And then, after a long lunch and plenty of conversation, we pretty much rode home. No tickets, no break downs, no close calls, a fine day and a good ride.
At the Forbidden Zone