From the very first moment when you arrive and can begin your day by amblin’, not ramblin’, around the vast marketplace stocked with all sorts of delicacies from Asia and around the world to enjoy breakfast sushi and inari, along with friendly kibbitzing and joshing, the enjoyment begins.
And it’s always amusing to be the first vehicles on the ferry, two wheels good, four wheels bad—or at least slower.
Surreptitious spirits and canned beer on the float over to the the Peninsula always bring a smile to one’s face, especially when they afford one the opportunity to remotely toast an onboard wedding celebration. Yay.
Sure, the harrowing several miles along the glass and nail strewn freeway aren’t so great, but when they’re almost immediately followed up by a cold tallboy at the somewhat unfortunately named bar and restaurant, all is good.
Bike touring is fun, in spite of the heat and cars, at least when you’re ramblin’, not amblin’, on old forest highways with a state park as your initial destination. It’s so nice there, you could take a nap; only the promise of more fun on two wheels impels you onward.
And here’s what really a gas: swapping your human-powered vehicle for a gas-powered one just before the hills become really steep and exposed. And what’s fun about that is it means you’ve got plenty of energy in camp for more amblin’, not ramblin’.
Thanks to Mother Nature for producing the mycological molecules that turn even the silliest of phrases even sillier: “Ketchup or die!” “I teach 4th graders!” “Bungie cords hate bikes!”
And doing a little bit of Ian Anderson for the birthday boy: is that fun, or what? Yes!
Moreover, in the morning, it’s still not over. Beer, bud, and bacon for breakfast.
Country music and Exile on Main Street in the packed pickup home.
Fun!
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