tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45339508113770924182024-03-13T10:06:50.249-07:00Confessions of a Biker ChickBarbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-34452155401615258762012-07-05T17:13:00.002-07:002012-07-05T17:13:52.072-07:00Up Hwy 39 to Crystal LakeAnd, all I have to show for it is a nice helmet-pressure knob on my forehead. Which is great, considering all that could have gone wrong...<br />
The Professor and his family came down to Long Beach for the 4th of July holiday. He had ridden his bike down so that we three could head out for a ride on Wednesday morning. Which is just exactly what we did. <br />
The weather could not have been more perfect. It was actually so cool here when we set out at 9AM that I put on a long-sleeved t-shirt over my short-sleeved one at the last minute. We expected the cloud cover to burn off by the time we got to the base of the mountains, but it remained cool until we stopped at the top, in the parking lot for Crustal Lake. <br />
The traffic both ways on the 605 was great. So much better-- can I say that again, so much better-- than going to Azusa via city streets. Which is how we got there last year, before The Male let me on the freeways. <br />
East on the 210 to Hwy 39 and then up the canyon, way past where we stopped on our first trip. I felt so much more comfortable on the tight curves, it actually become enjoyable. We still ride at a rather geriatric pace, being geriatric, so we pulled over at turn-outs often to let the crowd behind us pass.<br />
We rode past the recreation area where there were literally hundreds of cars parked alongside the road on both sides. So, take note: if you want to explore this recreation area, come early in the day or you will be scrambling for a parking spot. <br />
Once we got past the tight space through the day-use area, the road became much less crowded and more fun, too. At about 5,600 ft. elevation, we arrived at the first of two parking lots for Crystal Lake. <br />
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Take another note: The second parking lot is quite a bit shadier. It was HOT. <br />
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The Professor and I walked over the hill to take a quick look at the lake, while The Male stayed with the bikes. I was worried that we might get ticketed for not having a day pass.<br />
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We had a quick snack and drink of water before gearing up to head down the hill. That's when I noticed that I had 59 miles on this tank of gas. My tank's limit is about 80-90, which obviously wouldn't get me all the way home.<br />
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That's when my birthday present from The Professor and The Mommy came into play: A bright red 1-gallon spare gas tank, that fits just perfectly in my saddlebag! Yippee! No more frantic searching in unknown parts for a gas station! Thanks again, guys!<br />
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But, poor Male.... all suited up, in the hot, hot sun, with mean, biting flies buzzing around us, figuring out how to work the new can's nozzle... He's a great guy. <br />
With my gas tank filled up, we made the loop through the perfectly lovely, shady little campground and began the ride downhill. I rather enjoyed it! <br />
Then, on to the 210, the 605, and back to cool, still-cloudy Long Beach. <br />
It was a great way to spend the holiday. <br />
Love you guys!Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-12159432990531629132012-01-01T16:52:00.000-08:002012-01-01T16:53:51.253-08:00The Angeles Crest Highway with the GuysA few weeks back, early in December, our son-in-law, The Pilot, was here for the weekend. He was the management's representative on a Christmas party circuit for his company. One of those stops was here in our town, and he worked out the schedule so he could stay the weekend.<br />
He had decided to rent a bike while he was here, so that we could all go riding together. He had shipped his gear and reserved a bike. <br />
On Saturday morning, The Pilot and The Male geared up, and I drove my car, while The Pilot, who's 6'2" rode my bike to the motorcycle rental shop. Poor guy; his knees were up around his ears.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0H6vf-Y6HPo/TwD6QaN1-rI/AAAAAAAAHoo/BkRLk75qvfc/s1600/sign+post.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0H6vf-Y6HPo/TwD6QaN1-rI/AAAAAAAAHoo/BkRLk75qvfc/s320/sign+post.jpg" width="182" /></a></div>Once there, he got his rental ST1300, I parked the car and the three of us, each on a bike, headed up the freeway to meet The Professor at the start of the Angeles Crest Highway. On the way there, I only had one near-death experience, when I didn't see a truck in my blind spot and started to merge. I caught myself before any damage or shrieking was done.<br />
I so wish I could have taken my iPhone out of my pocket and taken a photograph as we made a transition from one freeway to another. The transition road was a huge, high, beautiful, sweeping expanse of concrete. From it I could see miles and miles across downtown LA. It was gorgeous.<br />
As we headed north toward Sunland, the freeway begins to pass in to quite a rural area; there were tall pines along the freeway and the air smelled thickly of their piney scent.<br />
Once off the freeway in Sunland, we met up with The Professor, made a quick stop for gas, and headed up the road.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--BsA4kOgBPM/TwD6kEy13uI/AAAAAAAAHo0/kwVaiW_Pymw/s1600/getting+gas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--BsA4kOgBPM/TwD6kEy13uI/AAAAAAAAHo0/kwVaiW_Pymw/s320/getting+gas.jpg" width="240" /></a></div> It wasn't too long before The Pilot and The Professor passed us by (We told them they didn't have to go along at my stately and age-appropriate pace, and they didn't!). The curves on this road will enchant even the most reluctant of bikers. Our destination was Newcomb's Ranch, a biker hangout about 35 miles up the road.<br />
The Male and I enjoyed the ride and the beautiful scenery. I had never been through this part of Southern California, and LA seemed a world away. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XfEj9a8JXXs/TwD63H4TvHI/AAAAAAAAHpA/GkwrxTbviv8/s1600/the+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XfEj9a8JXXs/TwD63H4TvHI/AAAAAAAAHpA/GkwrxTbviv8/s320/the+view.jpg" width="292" /></a></div>It took us about an hour to get to Newcomb's Ranch, where we were surprised that the guys weren't there yet. We thought that they might have continued up the road to Wrightwood. But, no, they had taken a wrong turn and had headed back to civilization. They turned around, we were soon enough having lunch together. <br />
By this time, the sun had gone behind the tallest mountains, casting deep shadows in the curves. On the way down the road, I had trouble with my eyes adjusting and would experience a few brief moments of not being able to see anything upon entering the shadow. That took a little fun out of the ride down the hills.<br />
Once again, the younger set took off down the road, planning to meet us on a turnout before getting to the freeway. From this stop, we could see over the LA basin, and this photo doesn't do the view justice.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3tvVmoGYFyM/TwD96C9T_iI/AAAAAAAAHpM/cbCjXiZwOZA/s1600/vista.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3tvVmoGYFyM/TwD96C9T_iI/AAAAAAAAHpM/cbCjXiZwOZA/s320/vista.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Checking out the map for the ride home:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h6LzmJ3R9o0/TwD-ftCuwjI/AAAAAAAAHpY/dyEJQvfPcHo/s1600/isaac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h6LzmJ3R9o0/TwD-ftCuwjI/AAAAAAAAHpY/dyEJQvfPcHo/s320/isaac.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We had to make a stop to gas up my bike (tiny gas tank), and i had trouble making a sharp enough turn into the gas station. So, I just went down the side road and turned around.<br />
On the 605, our last stretch of freeway toward home, the traffic bunched up a bit. The Male was in front, and The Pilot and The Professor were behind me. And, I found that rather comforting. I knew if I got into any trouble that they would be right there. Fortunately, they weren't called to duty, but I knew that they would! I love you guys.<br />
We made it home all in one piece, 182 miles in all for the guys, and 162 for me (I drove up to the bike rental shop.). It was a great day, and I'm gaining confidence with every successful outing and looking forward to the next one!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QjGWVYh7awk/TwD_xorVM0I/AAAAAAAAHpk/yKTSypTPIRw/s1600/bikes+at+curb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QjGWVYh7awk/TwD_xorVM0I/AAAAAAAAHpk/yKTSypTPIRw/s320/bikes+at+curb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-83607677685524074942011-11-04T11:43:00.000-07:002011-11-04T11:43:11.088-07:00Mission San Luis Rey and a 60th BirthdayYesterday was The Male's 60th birthday. And, in a completely not-to-character decision, he actually took the entire day off work. Incredible! He decided that he'd like to go for a ride down to the next mission on our list, San Luis Rey, in Oceanside. And, he wanted me to go, too! <br />
Which, if you understand him at all, is a huge decision. He is ever fearful that I'll get my self killed on his watch. Which is, frankly, a reasonable concern. Our ride involved 70 miles one-way, of mostly freeway riding. And, he wasn't at all sure that I could keep up freeway speeds, and thereby not get run over by a semi, so you can see what a sacrifice he made...<br />
We mapped out our route, got geared up, and headed out. It was a gorgeous day to be out and about, with a clear blue sky and perfect temperature. We got gas first, then on to the 405. We stayed in the right-hand lane as much as possible, going a respectable 60MPH. Respectable for me, at least.<br />
It was wonderful to not have to stop at stop lights over and over, to just sit and ride. Of course, I stayed vigilant, and have the sore neck today to show for it. But, it was so much more pleasant than city streets.<br />
We made it to the mission in a little over an hour, got gas, and had lunch before we began our visit.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-h4CtOg78GQ5jFaC4ZVeN136atFeFDQgSYb9JH4e5tNyFw89mbQOPMqOuhNdcqMJ6QKA4j11x4GJAQvNlUQklB7XToYrMFHZ-ut954sJw5ePD1FnbNITO7_NCnTMvzAyR7LXtSvKjkI/s1600/mission+san+luis+rey+%252855%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-h4CtOg78GQ5jFaC4ZVeN136atFeFDQgSYb9JH4e5tNyFw89mbQOPMqOuhNdcqMJ6QKA4j11x4GJAQvNlUQklB7XToYrMFHZ-ut954sJw5ePD1FnbNITO7_NCnTMvzAyR7LXtSvKjkI/s320/mission+san+luis+rey+%252855%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwugoQXhfSdu__3MWOZOimg0fpKynmhSga7_gsY8m94GOryXHIo_BzYxxSJsxf_weKXlG4NjLoT3Xpd2qJPQjqdpy5V1KtdrRs-RGvVpjRO0TSaVsiKL7D7T8XujAbrKupLMDW-1GwCec/s1600/mission+san+luis+rey+%252856%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwugoQXhfSdu__3MWOZOimg0fpKynmhSga7_gsY8m94GOryXHIo_BzYxxSJsxf_weKXlG4NjLoT3Xpd2qJPQjqdpy5V1KtdrRs-RGvVpjRO0TSaVsiKL7D7T8XujAbrKupLMDW-1GwCec/s320/mission+san+luis+rey+%252856%2529.jpg" width="188" /></a></div>The ride back was a little more tense. The traffic started to bunch up about 20 miles from home. And, as I get more tired, my stops tend to get sloppy. I was dreading stop-and-go traffic for 20 miles, and I could easily see myself dropping the bike. But, all my slow-speed training came in quite handy, as I only had to come to a complete feet-down stop twice. One of those stops, I stalled the bike. But, it was easy to get going again, and the traffic wasn't moving much, so I didn't cause a scene. <br />
One of the little joys of riding is catching scents that you wouldn't get in a car: sizzling french fries, eucalyptus trees, the ocean... But, there are others out there, like skunks and pot. Yep, amazingly enough, not once, but twice, we passed drivers, windows down, smoking a joint! On the freeway! Be careful out there, friends...Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-81616386886308063862011-10-23T13:19:00.000-07:002011-10-23T13:50:02.503-07:00The Gang of Three takes on Palos VerdesSo, yesterday, our son, The Professor, came down to our house on his bike, a Vstrom 650. His family drove down, and The Mama was very nervous, watching The Professor ride while she drove!<br />
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After lunch, while the family took naps, The Male, The Professor, and I headed out on our bikes for the loop around the Palos Verdes peninsula. Once you get past the congestion and general ickyness on PCH (the Pacific Coast Highway) and up into the rolling hills and horse country of Palos Verdes, it's a lovely ride.<br />
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Usually, there are stunning views of the Pacific Ocean, but not for today. A very low, dense, fog had come in off the ocean, and there just wasn't anything to see until we got nearly all the way around. It was cold and damp, too; quite the change from down on PCH, where it was sunny and in the 70s.<br />
We stopped at our usual lookout for a stretch and a snack, and we were able to see a bit of ocean. Then, back through San Pedro, up the 110, to PCH, and then home, 52 miles in all. <br />
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</a></div>Uneventfully and safely! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCt0YncI4YH4x3TGqFg-p0jKva5IK-cSKDrWxQSEb-WPi7WVkH0R7bopH9P8I1uHz9T0LdUA5LgBLoWE0_BXu72CSOFfjFD9vEcvfnNQDJvxnp0Gy3L5LDgfx5DxUx8OcLO3jqnCrUkes/s1600/corrie+and+nathan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCt0YncI4YH4x3TGqFg-p0jKva5IK-cSKDrWxQSEb-WPi7WVkH0R7bopH9P8I1uHz9T0LdUA5LgBLoWE0_BXu72CSOFfjFD9vEcvfnNQDJvxnp0Gy3L5LDgfx5DxUx8OcLO3jqnCrUkes/s320/corrie+and+nathan.jpg" width="313" /></a></div>Before we left, The Professor took The Mama around the block a few times. She liked it!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGgsW8q4C4dJ9ibq54cJPwYQnv_zJbItvx6eMgPnSEnsHiqbrdXJfPZQNd3jQ7u0z-N-rjnFtkCjrSStm7tKIeMt2qCjssAWsFdAfM4FqOr_emkCxUEn3nbbaizMALWCCykTVbsPhFG_w/s1600/gang+of+three.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGgsW8q4C4dJ9ibq54cJPwYQnv_zJbItvx6eMgPnSEnsHiqbrdXJfPZQNd3jQ7u0z-N-rjnFtkCjrSStm7tKIeMt2qCjssAWsFdAfM4FqOr_emkCxUEn3nbbaizMALWCCykTVbsPhFG_w/s320/gang+of+three.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>All suited up and looking appropriately tough. (Ha!)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO44TTu2PqmSyRLVRZc8cSfVDW5Db2yK_M1YzJFnTtl23o7CD6LV1XBBgdMRdezIPENevllzborvd82unz4Eu5bulpQIO6fVbEQJSZOwd6CWWgb30VYwtdnG91TlF8CuJROkDhOXA71xM/s1600/the+male+and+the+professor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO44TTu2PqmSyRLVRZc8cSfVDW5Db2yK_M1YzJFnTtl23o7CD6LV1XBBgdMRdezIPENevllzborvd82unz4Eu5bulpQIO6fVbEQJSZOwd6CWWgb30VYwtdnG91TlF8CuJROkDhOXA71xM/s320/the+male+and+the+professor.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>At our usual look-out point. Not much of an ocean view, I'm afraid! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdeTI2TNR-uKfebf8d3dBgxERj-G1oMPlYJEwp4Tpvw7Ebf6H_G3yC47SRzxnzrX37CiNaIyWs5KVKOaBW0K-oNrOKRH5ie6hXTwLkiY72Ii-9rygILlo-bC5BgVeoOYMJLa5CGNPEcBY/s1600/me+and+the+male.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdeTI2TNR-uKfebf8d3dBgxERj-G1oMPlYJEwp4Tpvw7Ebf6H_G3yC47SRzxnzrX37CiNaIyWs5KVKOaBW0K-oNrOKRH5ie6hXTwLkiY72Ii-9rygILlo-bC5BgVeoOYMJLa5CGNPEcBY/s320/me+and+the+male.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Aggg.... Helmet hair!<br />
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And, today, I'm paying for that ride through that chilly damp fog. I woke up yesterday with a scratchy throat and tried to ignore it, but today, I'm in the full grip of something nasty. Still in my jammies, which is probably more than you wanted to know...Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-51469767752355344222011-10-15T16:22:00.000-07:002011-10-15T16:22:58.818-07:00Fourty-four Miles to San Gabriel and HomeToday was a beautiful day in the neighborhood: mid-seventies temperature and sunny skies. The Male and I decided to take the opportunity to head north to <a href="http://www.cuca.k12.ca.us/lessons/missions/Gabriel/SanGabrielArcangel.html">Mission San Gabriel</a>. We've been to <a href="http://missionsjc.com/">San Juan Capistrano</a> and <a href="http://www.missionsantaines.org/home.html">Santa Ines</a>, and this one is right here in our back yard, so to speak. <br />
We decided to keep off the freeway, and instead, we headed up on Highway 19, Rosemead Blvd. It goes right by the Whittier Narrows Recreational Area and dam. We'd never seen either before. <br />
We found the Mission easily and parked under a big tree for the shade. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF6R_5gZ5DEHyA-25CKn0fCWt-_JOtjD3VvasEHT5z3BdYzJFmtq4lontYd7ORqcSh_6v9qVYNk7wu4S_xw8PCnEYFmRykUPG_w1I6dFlB1jtup7ZcQ-aEjxUYPGNrUNO_Rhp5pseHXHs/s1600/Mission+San+Gabriel+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF6R_5gZ5DEHyA-25CKn0fCWt-_JOtjD3VvasEHT5z3BdYzJFmtq4lontYd7ORqcSh_6v9qVYNk7wu4S_xw8PCnEYFmRykUPG_w1I6dFlB1jtup7ZcQ-aEjxUYPGNrUNO_Rhp5pseHXHs/s320/Mission+San+Gabriel+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> These grounds are not a beautiful as San Juan Capistrano, nor as historically charming as Santa Ines. The plants were more along the lines of native, rather than ornamental, flowers and cactus. That being said, we enjoyed our visit. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0m5zgEqBxo2oiQYJ7KLrPcygosYqI1fGwLWdDKv4TxCsdsiHlnXVyBjTqM9T6N_jBi0VwU8EjV8Qr-7XHERxrEYj1DWZesgPZL0WvyUItDsi31ntOuGYDmwN_5dwhjXFiS2bfxasM90/s1600/Mission+San+Gabriel+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0m5zgEqBxo2oiQYJ7KLrPcygosYqI1fGwLWdDKv4TxCsdsiHlnXVyBjTqM9T6N_jBi0VwU8EjV8Qr-7XHERxrEYj1DWZesgPZL0WvyUItDsi31ntOuGYDmwN_5dwhjXFiS2bfxasM90/s320/Mission+San+Gabriel+%25284%2529.jpg" width="212" /></a></div> We were simply amazed at the size of the grape vines; you wouldn't be able to get your arms around the trunk of the largest. They were started from seeds, rather than cuttings, so the grapes are exceedingly tiny and used only for making sacramental wine. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pqP6LJzJWVX52ULlM8Qi_iVCTqFAG6aLROzKIGDKI_zvKnRREf3myimljPYSjiOPd3AF7BA9KPINcNTigjsrzUDdvyF9_BI_GnWKi4gu14-khrvp1zcKgj3OkU1NpcFapYO6oTUwZIc/s1600/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252812%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pqP6LJzJWVX52ULlM8Qi_iVCTqFAG6aLROzKIGDKI_zvKnRREf3myimljPYSjiOPd3AF7BA9KPINcNTigjsrzUDdvyF9_BI_GnWKi4gu14-khrvp1zcKgj3OkU1NpcFapYO6oTUwZIc/s320/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252812%2529.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>The little museum is crammed with artifacts and The Male could have happily spent the entire day there, reading every little handwritten note.<br />
We wandered the grounds, and then went out to the bikes for our lunch, waiting for a wedding to conclude so we could go in the original church. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgxl6INaajzqPt848fe-_B5uZtXpVmukbA_xeSHxmH4pgWYS4ncJIIQgx5oTRN2uwEJ_2mY8Z-cRdRfzzLYatBXc2g8eJaJX61fttV7tdLQUpau5sCOPee3h-58gdHCTAyzhDCtq60GcA/s1600/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252839%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgxl6INaajzqPt848fe-_B5uZtXpVmukbA_xeSHxmH4pgWYS4ncJIIQgx5oTRN2uwEJ_2mY8Z-cRdRfzzLYatBXc2g8eJaJX61fttV7tdLQUpau5sCOPee3h-58gdHCTAyzhDCtq60GcA/s320/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252839%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Back to the grounds, where the wedding was still going strong. It had been over an hour by now. I felt sorry for the bride; her feet were probably hurting! But, that gave me a little more time to seek out some photo opps.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGqStF6sz0DlfgKPzjZgWVtq9f2oXfNIZ8ZWG0ewAd06XIt7PYmfAzrfCdjN-L2UpHkEVaXrfkcluFnAWUOV5s5h_-e9xtNZpl4ZczefiG-55y0Pyfxy6BXgv4l96KU8iK0QjUHnrep2U/s1600/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252842%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGqStF6sz0DlfgKPzjZgWVtq9f2oXfNIZ8ZWG0ewAd06XIt7PYmfAzrfCdjN-L2UpHkEVaXrfkcluFnAWUOV5s5h_-e9xtNZpl4ZczefiG-55y0Pyfxy6BXgv4l96KU8iK0QjUHnrep2U/s320/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252842%2529.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80xuy5hL67-tMpwrX0H8T7NbBBSBBBTEn4wHXIarBa2ufnLUzk_fsYlf7Zo19_tr7oqU9igeSR1jKJ-k3OkgwpNnP8dy5B5CC36EtleXJ0DpbzmYlcgdP36aHshpvGFJ2FhchSYTFLEo/s1600/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252843%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80xuy5hL67-tMpwrX0H8T7NbBBSBBBTEn4wHXIarBa2ufnLUzk_fsYlf7Zo19_tr7oqU9igeSR1jKJ-k3OkgwpNnP8dy5B5CC36EtleXJ0DpbzmYlcgdP36aHshpvGFJ2FhchSYTFLEo/s320/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252843%2529.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>The wedding finally concluded, and we went in to the church. They were busy in there, taking down flowers from one wedding and putting the next wedding's flowers in their place. We didn't linger long.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNRe9hd5kpGTM2wh7M7fOBInE5Krfm8v7JJpk3Mcnv9_fOVVjimemsE2YnQ6IPyrhTkrZPYFf9JjTih7oqqQGqhvB68lKzz_N0-VTg_zJOthTnkAco9g2Ynug7guwgrYlwiOhIarVD3A/s1600/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252846%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNRe9hd5kpGTM2wh7M7fOBInE5Krfm8v7JJpk3Mcnv9_fOVVjimemsE2YnQ6IPyrhTkrZPYFf9JjTih7oqqQGqhvB68lKzz_N0-VTg_zJOthTnkAco9g2Ynug7guwgrYlwiOhIarVD3A/s320/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252846%2529.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>Then a walk around the outside grounds, and home safely, and thankfully, once again. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JTCI0FtJMwEANUK5jlet3USznTBzOXsHBSRXDQUzWbrKJp9E58t-Gq_fDPYbykcyThAYPVtdXWI1PwPfxFxDILUKYO_1jWFmhp3Y5K8E-2Ynb0YhSVu1b3G8DnCQlTuBwn7sLLoYVBU/s1600/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252857%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JTCI0FtJMwEANUK5jlet3USznTBzOXsHBSRXDQUzWbrKJp9E58t-Gq_fDPYbykcyThAYPVtdXWI1PwPfxFxDILUKYO_1jWFmhp3Y5K8E-2Ynb0YhSVu1b3G8DnCQlTuBwn7sLLoYVBU/s320/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252857%2529.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhOoiHyBQG5Um_zHNxgy9HlMxDHoFIrP5irD4Z_GuufcyLm2c2s-hGqWBXrEdsoyvUwoVQJYe5KSoYlVCJ3k-Ax_-v9mrYjm9KaFvkdK-k7ktTZwVmAS_sVyj49ze-LfLuIcUExVllWO8/s1600/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252861%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhOoiHyBQG5Um_zHNxgy9HlMxDHoFIrP5irD4Z_GuufcyLm2c2s-hGqWBXrEdsoyvUwoVQJYe5KSoYlVCJ3k-Ax_-v9mrYjm9KaFvkdK-k7ktTZwVmAS_sVyj49ze-LfLuIcUExVllWO8/s320/Mission+San+Gabriel+%252861%2529.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-14494763893067328842011-09-25T19:44:00.000-07:002011-09-25T19:44:51.917-07:00Riding into the Sunset<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-NIGYxlOi9fi2biQD7K6bi-LMmoqkuSybWhfGhsL0JxBv502F3cZyBu1yj_erv6WgCrQWKLQQm-T5YWhwZWPaqltdjtPSKGMggJQK1d-X0UHxJYtPmBHYHD5MXXK1Na0cRVCUD_bKRUc/s1600/h758zwno.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-NIGYxlOi9fi2biQD7K6bi-LMmoqkuSybWhfGhsL0JxBv502F3cZyBu1yj_erv6WgCrQWKLQQm-T5YWhwZWPaqltdjtPSKGMggJQK1d-X0UHxJYtPmBHYHD5MXXK1Na0cRVCUD_bKRUc/s320/h758zwno.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The Male <i>finally</i> let me out on my bike again. It's been a while, and I am rusty. However, in my defense, I did an <u>amazing</u> parking job in our driveway today. So what that it was on the wrong side. It was still <u>amazing</u>.<br />
So, to bring you up to speed: We went out this afternoon for a little 17.5 mile run to the barber shop. I felt a little shaky starting out, as it's been over 2 months since my last ride. But, a few times around the block, and I was feeling more confident. We stopped to get gas first, and then headed out. <br />
I need to remember that we have Bluetooth, so every little "oopsie" I utter is heard. And, that just makes him worry even more, "You OK???" "Yep; just caught my toe on the peg." Et cetera. <br />
It was a lovely afternoon, and the breeze felt great through my Joe Rocket mesh. Like every other afternoon ride, though, we come home into the setting sun. Makes it a little trickier to see clearly. So, we just ride like the old geezers we are. And, we made it home safely. Again. For which we are thankful.Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-26582219274046463562011-07-09T15:29:00.000-07:002011-07-09T15:59:38.333-07:0086.4 Miles and Only One Near-Death ExperienceSo, we're making great progress!<br />
<br />
The Male, however, is still a little shaky.<br />
<br />
We headed out today for Cook's Corner, a famous motorcycle hangout in Orange County. Now, mind you, we weren't actually going to stop there. Heavens, no, We'd be exposed as the fakers we are faster than you can say, "I'll have the biggest tattoo you can draw!"<br />
<br />
Getting there necessitates a bit of freeway, 22 miles, and then a long stretch along a winding, rural highway. That part is truly lovely. But, once past Cook's Corner, where I DIDN'T lay down my bike at the 90 degree corner--how embarrassing would that be?--the road gets even windier, with 3 really, really sharp turns.<br />
<br />
And, I over-shot one. Big time. There were a few cars behind us, and I felt a little crowded, so I was probably going too fast. Honestly, I don't remember. I do know that I was too close to the inside of the curve, so it was very tight. I probably would have been OK had I been on the outside of the curve.<br />
<br />
So, I didn't make the turn and instead, shot over into the other lane.<br />
<br />
Where, LORD be praised, there were <i>NO</i> oncoming cars. Oh, I will be having flashbacks about <i>that</i> for some time. <br />
<br />
The Male was more than a little upset. He gets that way whenever I almost get myself killed. So, we pulled over by a park, had some water, and tried to shake it all off.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2z3Uoo-0OQjaZqfhWF6W-oLDlPKpisSajrPzpfpCyewVRZC4q90wF_qnmdxfhEaTRfmLMKI4oM_Jx5KvKfbc87sf5xYcqOnxXlEejHL2jJW7DDvf36CfAu6aBb3Lsm8EAOmJbvUQa9k/s1600/5920080980_89bf0a55a9_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2z3Uoo-0OQjaZqfhWF6W-oLDlPKpisSajrPzpfpCyewVRZC4q90wF_qnmdxfhEaTRfmLMKI4oM_Jx5KvKfbc87sf5xYcqOnxXlEejHL2jJW7DDvf36CfAu6aBb3Lsm8EAOmJbvUQa9k/s320/5920080980_89bf0a55a9_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>But, it took the fun down a notch or two. He kept asking all the way home, "Are you doing OK?" <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2z3Uoo-0OQjaZqfhWF6W-oLDlPKpisSajrPzpfpCyewVRZC4q90wF_qnmdxfhEaTRfmLMKI4oM_Jx5KvKfbc87sf5xYcqOnxXlEejHL2jJW7DDvf36CfAu6aBb3Lsm8EAOmJbvUQa9k/s1600/5920080980_89bf0a55a9_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>And, I was. Really. I got up to 70 MPH on the freeway, a new record for me. Didn't pop the clutch, kill the engine, drop the bike, or anything but that one itsy-bitsy mistake. So, now can we all just move on? And, never mention this again. Great!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju385xKmqCa63EPXDcppHV_HtFvSe-hp68uZChTvM-lUZ6pZxg-1Bttu_KM-rUGg2gofU1MbQp2RCPd84c-t_mmipzZh2VbbNqsEnnq1uOoa7rcLvlXe-K1u5vK5tj5FpICJ7wy4P0ecY/s1600/5920080042_b924fb501e_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju385xKmqCa63EPXDcppHV_HtFvSe-hp68uZChTvM-lUZ6pZxg-1Bttu_KM-rUGg2gofU1MbQp2RCPd84c-t_mmipzZh2VbbNqsEnnq1uOoa7rcLvlXe-K1u5vK5tj5FpICJ7wy4P0ecY/s320/5920080042_b924fb501e_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-41649052779097417222011-04-11T10:35:00.000-07:002011-04-11T10:35:59.242-07:00Finally!We finally got in a little ride this weekend. It's been rainy, we've been busy, and there hasn't been any thing to report!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipqiRFSqKqBZPxJdAoxh8GTi2JAhTWJ4r0RF5-2__YbxrZjzLwPgGXF9Fr12lsAvjyJTpLsMeyxXNX7XGBJK8dPleMOwB_EkoKCRg_bDiueEiLTgAHJcdjVyuti9NW4bUg39MwjyCx-V8/s1600/photo%252827%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>But, yesterday, we got out for a 30-mile round-trip. The Male needed a haircut, and I was promised a paleta for tagging along, so I saddled up. We also picked up a few more (kiwi, mango, cherry, coconut, and berry) to deliver to a friend for his birthday, too. <br />
The weather was gorgeous; 66 degrees and sunny. The traffic was light, and I stayed upright the entire way. I always feel such a sense of accomplishment when that happens... The only little hiccup was not making a tight enough turn into the barber shop's parking lot. But, I just had to back up a bit and turn a little more, and viola'! And, in another little victory, we both managed to park correctly, backing up against the curb. <br />
And, I thoroughly enjoyed my sweet potato paleta after dinner!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipqiRFSqKqBZPxJdAoxh8GTi2JAhTWJ4r0RF5-2__YbxrZjzLwPgGXF9Fr12lsAvjyJTpLsMeyxXNX7XGBJK8dPleMOwB_EkoKCRg_bDiueEiLTgAHJcdjVyuti9NW4bUg39MwjyCx-V8/s1600/photo%252827%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipqiRFSqKqBZPxJdAoxh8GTi2JAhTWJ4r0RF5-2__YbxrZjzLwPgGXF9Fr12lsAvjyJTpLsMeyxXNX7XGBJK8dPleMOwB_EkoKCRg_bDiueEiLTgAHJcdjVyuti9NW4bUg39MwjyCx-V8/s320/photo%252827%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-14192773344900915252011-02-17T14:15:00.000-08:002011-02-17T14:41:28.749-08:00Wow! I've been gone a while, haven't I?After we got back from Alaska, life kinda went a little crazy, and riding had to go by the wayside for a bit. We skipped our holiday ride tradition on Thanksgiving and Christmas (we had quite the houseful), but we did go out on New Year's Day. Just a little ride down PCH to get my bearings again. And, it was wonderful. After such a long break, I was expecting to be quite rusty and off-kilter. But, no; it was probably the most relaxed I'd ever been on my bike. Oh, it was glorious, I'm telling you! The weather was beautiful, just a little cool, the traffic was light, and it was great fun. I took this photo with my iPhone, trying to get myslef in the mirror, but I couldn't see from the glare from the sun on its screen! That's my saddle bag instead!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0DaGlC-CSco7Rng9giGK1yo93q5PAcoIw9aeQ9fOOpPx4ubbm7xIlqA-aUcz8_cqASkbImmMl3UItpdWvUY12eJqM9AXFjs5xp2m6_x9Wo1rbItuOJrNIZknCsbaiP0q3ZDMuq_PCHA/s1600/photo%25283%2529.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0DaGlC-CSco7Rng9giGK1yo93q5PAcoIw9aeQ9fOOpPx4ubbm7xIlqA-aUcz8_cqASkbImmMl3UItpdWvUY12eJqM9AXFjs5xp2m6_x9Wo1rbItuOJrNIZknCsbaiP0q3ZDMuq_PCHA/s320/photo%25283%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574791324579818850" border="0" /></a><br />Our next ride was Super Bowl Sunday. We were invited over to watch the game with some dear friends, and since we wanted to get out on the bikes that weekend anyway, we suited up and rode over. It's only about a 10-mile journey, and we've done it before. One time, to deliver some of our favorite Mexican ice cream for her 50th birthday. (If there's ice cream involved, I'm there!) We hadn't planned on staying for the whole game, but that's exactly what we did. <br />We scooted out right at the end of the game, hoping to get home before all the crazies who'd been drinking their favorite beers all afternoon hit the road, too. And, by that time, it was completely dark outside. I've never ridden in the dark. The Male wouldn't let me, so this was Big. Gear on, we headed out, only to have to stop one block away to clear the fog from my windshield. We started out again, and I had to keep my visor up so it wouldn't fog up either. I was glad we didn't have too far to go.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Note to self: clean windshield and visor and apply anti-fog stuff.</span><br />Then, just this past weekend, we got out again. Our church is looking at a new place to lease, and I needed a few more photos for a slide show. Once again, it was off south on PCH. What we didn't realize is that the road we planned to turn inland on didn't go through to PCH. We went farther than we planned, but when we did turn inland, it was through an area that neither of us had ever been to before. It was interesting and lovely and I didn't mind getting lost at all. We did finally pull over and got out The Male's iPhone to find out just where we were. (I think we spent a lot more time "exploring" before we got iPhones.)<br />We found our destination, I took my photos, and we went home yet another way we'd never been before. That's been the unintended consequence of riding: finding areas in our own city that are new to us. But, really, I'd like to get out of the city sometime soon! <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj807DMdh9oLPYwiTcr-3LGgfYGQpMMxX57bn4LXNRmyp45xS4hOcc2ylv3RzPDeqMrZqnwqY45sa5vnmuYWoV4nQKAJsK_k51obCuHGB1h2gXqS9Y96SKPNfaX0tS7jxGVk-MWbyL9WU0/s1600/DSC_0052_edited-1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 261px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj807DMdh9oLPYwiTcr-3LGgfYGQpMMxX57bn4LXNRmyp45xS4hOcc2ylv3RzPDeqMrZqnwqY45sa5vnmuYWoV4nQKAJsK_k51obCuHGB1h2gXqS9Y96SKPNfaX0tS7jxGVk-MWbyL9WU0/s320/DSC_0052_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574791319760688706" border="0" /></a>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-15581874302213201102010-10-09T10:28:00.000-07:002010-10-09T12:41:24.473-07:00I Rode a Harley in Ketchican, Alaska......and, (not to brag, just stating the facts) managed to stay upright the entire time!<br />We had seen an article for motorcycle tours in Ketchican way back in spring, right after we had booked our cruise. Oh, it sounded so enticing. So, we called up Panhandle Motorcycle Tours and booked two Harleys for September 17th. I talked to Mary on the phone, telling her how short I am, and she told me that they had just gotten in a Super Low that would be perfect for me.<br />I tried not to think about it too much in the days prior, just enjoyed our cruise. But, the day we decked in Ketchican, the butterflies began. We walked down the street a few short blocks to scope out the place, and then walked around the town a bit. A quick bite for lunch and back to the shop.<br />This is where fear really kicked in. Our tour guide, Shannon, showed me the bike: a lovely, shiny, new, blue Super Low. It looked and felt so much heavier than my Suzuki. While we waited for the other couple on the tour, I kept getting off and on the bike, rocking it back and forth to feel the weight. And, I grew more and more afraid. I did not want to make a fool of myself. Didn't want to drop the bike and scratch up the beautifully polished chrome.<br />Then, in came the other couple, right off their ship. They were wearing leathers (hers had fringe) and he had those little goggles Harley riders like to wear. In other words, they knew what they were doing. And, I felt even worse.<br />I came very close to backing out and just riding pillion with Doug. But, we had already paid our money. So, I was going to take my chances... One of my goals in life these days is to not let fear have the better of me; I knew that if I didn't even try, I'd be very disappointed in myself later.<br />So, we geared up and I faced my very first challenge: getting out on to the street. As you can see in the photo, the shop is right on the street. There was no place to get used to the bike by taking a few turns around the parking lot. No, it was get in gear and BAM! you're instantly on the road and in traffic. (Behind the shop is a cruise ship; this street is literally on the water, as the the back of the shop is over the harbor.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcUuHaWui2th43CsQPv5pT-8Acc7X3RBDMX396QrUpaKsj3wCdfRb9Bhtfyxssn5NS_XMT8r6v8Er2Up2ZYf2oNUHUtttvORZ3JTGhFUjMU7xyUzmDuQA_y8rhaC6pKqJrPC_OYrSGs90/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcUuHaWui2th43CsQPv5pT-8Acc7X3RBDMX396QrUpaKsj3wCdfRb9Bhtfyxssn5NS_XMT8r6v8Er2Up2ZYf2oNUHUtttvORZ3JTGhFUjMU7xyUzmDuQA_y8rhaC6pKqJrPC_OYrSGs90/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526100451157674866" border="0" /></a>I managed to get out on the street with only a few wobbles. We made our way through town, rather slowly, as the street was narrow and there were pedestrians from the ships all over. It didn't take too long to get out of town, as Ketchican is not very big, and we were on the open road. I tried valiantly to keep up with Doug and Shannon, who were in front of me, and not be a danger to the couple behind me by splatting myself all over the pavement in front of them.<br />Our first stop was at this inlet, which leads to a fish hatchery.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGyzt2OHl3vmFAnnlCq6pyRKFl1O1I70Ibpsj9HHZFOOuReoBR2XCjGqOZtAb1F8OB5LRBFc7KwQMH5kX8tccjQHFTggES_QY18USIVc7iHO1kf0bfBrilVI9RVwX4lVK5QDkGZVbBzjE/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-01.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGyzt2OHl3vmFAnnlCq6pyRKFl1O1I70Ibpsj9HHZFOOuReoBR2XCjGqOZtAb1F8OB5LRBFc7KwQMH5kX8tccjQHFTggES_QY18USIVc7iHO1kf0bfBrilVI9RVwX4lVK5QDkGZVbBzjE/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526100444337954770" border="0" /></a>We walked out on this little bridge to get a look down at the stream.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVPVHCHxhfz4-tudZ_V6PEPEPCShBflu886PQdlzFY7_WxhbEupleIseNLQMydRaPvZlcbgH8qXsl9_C4-sG8C4tA0lMFC0T9TRqFgovPjCV2kCxmUV2uKP0lREHa4o2_eUYv40qcn7H0/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-03.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVPVHCHxhfz4-tudZ_V6PEPEPCShBflu886PQdlzFY7_WxhbEupleIseNLQMydRaPvZlcbgH8qXsl9_C4-sG8C4tA0lMFC0T9TRqFgovPjCV2kCxmUV2uKP0lREHa4o2_eUYv40qcn7H0/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526100457982270610" border="0" /></a>It was filled, and I mean filled, with pink salmon. If they were to hold still, you could have walked over the stream on their backs, there were that many and they were that close. But, at a closer look, it was not so idyllic. They were all headed upstream to spawn. And, do you know what happens when salmon spawn? Yep. They die. So, scattered along the banks and the rocks were dead, dying, decaying fish. It stunk.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRx-sp1Wo-e9tMMtDxfLHO3zKbhMuXSk5Cbd5RFz6BD2M_o29tu67_YdqT9zvikpfdLLinuAF1Y2oOp41uML2MR7GH5XW-kZlp4k_ExRWCZlPQRuM75J6j1L-pk0-WPzguYCEdKWVF9fQ/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-02.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRx-sp1Wo-e9tMMtDxfLHO3zKbhMuXSk5Cbd5RFz6BD2M_o29tu67_YdqT9zvikpfdLLinuAF1Y2oOp41uML2MR7GH5XW-kZlp4k_ExRWCZlPQRuM75J6j1L-pk0-WPzguYCEdKWVF9fQ/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526100453303176354" border="0" /></a>The birds liked the easy pickins'.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUupwroHCVEgxOz5OdGHkhSbGnGXY8sXZ9hhUBMgc_KgmkeDHLBv5xU4XJFH2Muw4IJCtugtc6_RC4d2KaH9OSE11VyYN1ISj3tby1laSAxnb8JxTy14UY2J7mxppFhRAyPDwQ26nw1l0/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-04.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUupwroHCVEgxOz5OdGHkhSbGnGXY8sXZ9hhUBMgc_KgmkeDHLBv5xU4XJFH2Muw4IJCtugtc6_RC4d2KaH9OSE11VyYN1ISj3tby1laSAxnb8JxTy14UY2J7mxppFhRAyPDwQ26nw1l0/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-04.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526100460239394898" border="0" /></a>We got on the bikes and headed back the way we had come, stopping at an overlook.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuRn9lxLYiDoD9AlroCT5UYoswVWCjr6YLfXdv_ra6NXGWQu1XGJdCaCXTeZLqaaAVeV4lDX522EjlrXDekhxA2YnbaRO4Va3Cv1l9mMexe-RItwSHlFjAsxf14_t-PkhLTtlZTk5d-M/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-07.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuRn9lxLYiDoD9AlroCT5UYoswVWCjr6YLfXdv_ra6NXGWQu1XGJdCaCXTeZLqaaAVeV4lDX522EjlrXDekhxA2YnbaRO4Va3Cv1l9mMexe-RItwSHlFjAsxf14_t-PkhLTtlZTk5d-M/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-07.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526100702684835010" border="0" /></a>These are the bikes that Doug and I rode, parked across from our lookout point.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxXpEbrHaQCMpeltvbG_aZa0OY4uBh1nQqKNVojr8TyfbkSIvVg-03tU7cDZi9tAfMTzx27FIaN__MFjLz61Ef1xYy7fgmRXU1ouo8YoExGqaYwf34B6X8aC0C1dEhz0poI6CgXSMiqs/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-06.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxXpEbrHaQCMpeltvbG_aZa0OY4uBh1nQqKNVojr8TyfbkSIvVg-03tU7cDZi9tAfMTzx27FIaN__MFjLz61Ef1xYy7fgmRXU1ouo8YoExGqaYwf34B6X8aC0C1dEhz0poI6CgXSMiqs/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-06.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526100698621993106" border="0" /></a>Back on the bikes to head through town and out a ways on the other side. Shannon gave us a choice: either through town at rush hour (it was now 5 o'clock) and lots of stop-and-go traffic, or up through the neighborhoods. Did I mention that Ketchican is bascially on a hillside? Do you know that Long Beach is flat? And, if you think a stick shift car is difficult on hills...<br />So, of course, we took the hilly route... Yikes! But, I got through it.<br />Once out on the highway, it was wonderful. Our route took us along the coast for a while and then through a forest. Shannon was taking us to a beautiful little stream and waterfall in a state park.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRjUyFBgi4aTtR-TOnXqeRxajNk_MMQYDkTyrkszzGanTPmUMR9sp3wGdQiAaZnyQI4uSE1lwUeTx7qNg2zaXJo-3ajcm729xH60ahXk6Tfjol8PN2Oqo7QzXxGVPrGSaRGBckqkumDjI/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-08.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRjUyFBgi4aTtR-TOnXqeRxajNk_MMQYDkTyrkszzGanTPmUMR9sp3wGdQiAaZnyQI4uSE1lwUeTx7qNg2zaXJo-3ajcm729xH60ahXk6Tfjol8PN2Oqo7QzXxGVPrGSaRGBckqkumDjI/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-08.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526100706901987378" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKqQmMxCwMTk-Cj7oRsPr_CVQFFhCsHpQ8FVK34G9YS59jDr0pqIdAOiUaZO8UqcT_hOCri3lPPBsuV3hnTN2vAZ36CtVv2Eruip7gwXNiuBSDtgSBIq2y55bpn8zQWfMp-rStDzyOww/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-10.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKqQmMxCwMTk-Cj7oRsPr_CVQFFhCsHpQ8FVK34G9YS59jDr0pqIdAOiUaZO8UqcT_hOCri3lPPBsuV3hnTN2vAZ36CtVv2Eruip7gwXNiuBSDtgSBIq2y55bpn8zQWfMp-rStDzyOww/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526103428939159890" border="0" /></a>Once again, the stream was full of salmon in their death throes. In the never-to-be-forgotten words of my darling daughter: "Nature is NOT nice."<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51P62Fhtbv4iiQ1Yu2pRx6lZ4kZ76gNb5SpHT6BNtgMQ499P4ixlHDFqWNJHu6dV2GWCrrFS55ZUCTqpM5MiVGFMRXKWwU3rITaVvU9_HawXjgmNvHAzWL7TzYEUjLqTGJ_yDnza8tPA/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-09.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51P62Fhtbv4iiQ1Yu2pRx6lZ4kZ76gNb5SpHT6BNtgMQ499P4ixlHDFqWNJHu6dV2GWCrrFS55ZUCTqpM5MiVGFMRXKWwU3rITaVvU9_HawXjgmNvHAzWL7TzYEUjLqTGJ_yDnza8tPA/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526103423792873986" border="0" /></a>Back the way we came a bit, until we turned off to this little harbor. Shannon has a boat that he keeps here, and he knew some of the fishermen.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VkKpBFn8tcOF83fDkgPUERnzbdfu5EdBFDcX84nlmDjVpYPz1zDdtJY7T4sAYJtBaA2O8YV67HWRVxMLApSpKVsHJfmHzIkcJ-Bu_aqZUDiaonOhx1FGDIXMVeBjsBqhwm2UHDw99vs/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-14.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VkKpBFn8tcOF83fDkgPUERnzbdfu5EdBFDcX84nlmDjVpYPz1zDdtJY7T4sAYJtBaA2O8YV67HWRVxMLApSpKVsHJfmHzIkcJ-Bu_aqZUDiaonOhx1FGDIXMVeBjsBqhwm2UHDw99vs/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526103434177517826" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGbUod_8W-aKR1dXO4BHny9eMJjP0Eo8AaNCOoDCYlxx0doRS3huDk_EoPe3pDaD4PSQvx2kKnNMxLuCJzB7weR7b_LHjgrB46md9noQbrShnlnnRDbSfmYOfGkAX2FtR1bFFMgzlIwHw/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-15.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGbUod_8W-aKR1dXO4BHny9eMJjP0Eo8AaNCOoDCYlxx0doRS3huDk_EoPe3pDaD4PSQvx2kKnNMxLuCJzB7weR7b_LHjgrB46md9noQbrShnlnnRDbSfmYOfGkAX2FtR1bFFMgzlIwHw/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526103440545344130" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQW1aaCHk2z5ZkcqvPK5iEdKDvbrrdGrOxSZN83ADEs_wFa7xII8TL0luwumg-Wr32_fuwARx8XeIWdiZirkbfsfvRbVmuydVyLX499C9nQxMTys6G3XIErjdG6E2h7-dXUwrgZThWvDo/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-19.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQW1aaCHk2z5ZkcqvPK5iEdKDvbrrdGrOxSZN83ADEs_wFa7xII8TL0luwumg-Wr32_fuwARx8XeIWdiZirkbfsfvRbVmuydVyLX499C9nQxMTys6G3XIErjdG6E2h7-dXUwrgZThWvDo/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-19.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526102260515666450" border="0" /></a><br />These men had just come in with a very nice catch.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLXxSn_wYbu3ivqUc-fM5oUjlh7vQH9Ak3sIXw91AeAdGtAj8X0zsuHWq48-MFvnE_akvUJiyQkMiwUHiOK8nYsKzvLCoXff-VYUyRNEI_5tylU13CeXsG4DjeSMKdp4AcJr0aSmXAFk/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-16.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 273px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLXxSn_wYbu3ivqUc-fM5oUjlh7vQH9Ak3sIXw91AeAdGtAj8X0zsuHWq48-MFvnE_akvUJiyQkMiwUHiOK8nYsKzvLCoXff-VYUyRNEI_5tylU13CeXsG4DjeSMKdp4AcJr0aSmXAFk/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-16.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526103441542298690" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMpf0AUccu8EzzA5yJu8N2FhPFTPxwJa6ogyhNiYvBAJQWLNG0ZGPUpWs7CJn3N2rmW7ScDGpiyPx902WaWSrLWyV8dHp0qObV6YA9UKD0vJvvQVmj1Uu0r82RD9WivaKWksqkTbdI6cA/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-18.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMpf0AUccu8EzzA5yJu8N2FhPFTPxwJa6ogyhNiYvBAJQWLNG0ZGPUpWs7CJn3N2rmW7ScDGpiyPx902WaWSrLWyV8dHp0qObV6YA9UKD0vJvvQVmj1Uu0r82RD9WivaKWksqkTbdI6cA/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-18.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526102262231970162" border="0" /></a>Back on the road, heading to Potlach Park, which is a totem pole studio/museum/gift shop. The parking lot was gravel, like most of our stops, so Shannon once again helped me turn the bike around. A heavy bike on gravel + an inexperienced rider = a dropped bike. So, we avoided that.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOqox2oI6c2g-ib3FiS0tWcmOa5YaRYQkIyYsvTtgO_5hwIugIPh9jvCv3BGvnXQr7bgLnvpMBtQ_ridK4mX1HfiSAkxdat5assY-qVTDUozqrgC6j85g4f3Fd1BlqbY5zajsm9nHSS8A/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-20.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOqox2oI6c2g-ib3FiS0tWcmOa5YaRYQkIyYsvTtgO_5hwIugIPh9jvCv3BGvnXQr7bgLnvpMBtQ_ridK4mX1HfiSAkxdat5assY-qVTDUozqrgC6j85g4f3Fd1BlqbY5zajsm9nHSS8A/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526102256285529634" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij2DMolMpAFLRwTfSUvCv0j7nBziFYKXVC_iFJWDW0uccc-JHk7Q0Fvy0449xxsUkxZWaO8rigXFRsiQLGbNmoPBrzpKI5r4OmmKRnfma1xycO_cqqKVa38750Yl4rogs6z7sJFuk7WiQ/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-21.jpg"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij2DMolMpAFLRwTfSUvCv0j7nBziFYKXVC_iFJWDW0uccc-JHk7Q0Fvy0449xxsUkxZWaO8rigXFRsiQLGbNmoPBrzpKI5r4OmmKRnfma1xycO_cqqKVa38750Yl4rogs6z7sJFuk7WiQ/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-21.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij2DMolMpAFLRwTfSUvCv0j7nBziFYKXVC_iFJWDW0uccc-JHk7Q0Fvy0449xxsUkxZWaO8rigXFRsiQLGbNmoPBrzpKI5r4OmmKRnfma1xycO_cqqKVa38750Yl4rogs6z7sJFuk7WiQ/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-21.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526102251108598002" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7nCkzbtuXeGanBLdooUfFp-vsk_c8cvI_M0_igdCZ-_zqolsTZCvhEUcUx7hEIu-1zfTFxrm6Ga7JhtjTwC1xra5HnBAt-k3qeQOg73DVO6GIZXy6aEIyXO6MI7cnH_NclsW4BQOPZr8/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-22.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 244px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7nCkzbtuXeGanBLdooUfFp-vsk_c8cvI_M0_igdCZ-_zqolsTZCvhEUcUx7hEIu-1zfTFxrm6Ga7JhtjTwC1xra5HnBAt-k3qeQOg73DVO6GIZXy6aEIyXO6MI7cnH_NclsW4BQOPZr8/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-22.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526102252201936786" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbv4hat8ptU-pI-3IHlHwYq9Mo8fq2zzzXejC_Z5iZOnxieSAISBKq6taEp-FuWEi2zgs-HYfYVPqrF9vHK2a9UQuTG9jyFnpOKBav6ZkmCkewYvXUPe1Va4Zg-874SUzNUxss61dHwA/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-23.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbv4hat8ptU-pI-3IHlHwYq9Mo8fq2zzzXejC_Z5iZOnxieSAISBKq6taEp-FuWEi2zgs-HYfYVPqrF9vHK2a9UQuTG9jyFnpOKBav6ZkmCkewYvXUPe1Va4Zg-874SUzNUxss61dHwA/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-23.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526101621687078978" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY7vVuw6gM6wuKs1ZBxW2NX0er5SyUx6qixoRDniSGOxR76LTZLfDo-nuVKfkxeBW17TuMPBySq0Ql__GWyPkvCBk3b3aUUmm_t3aD36KdwJlBGItxo52DYlJyDIKw8b19QGVsF_GxcHw/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-24.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY7vVuw6gM6wuKs1ZBxW2NX0er5SyUx6qixoRDniSGOxR76LTZLfDo-nuVKfkxeBW17TuMPBySq0Ql__GWyPkvCBk3b3aUUmm_t3aD36KdwJlBGItxo52DYlJyDIKw8b19QGVsF_GxcHw/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-24.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526101618147157426" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgSNhColWhFdUJmv8moGKssplopHGIkps6C-NepOvFgPrjS90OeRZhnjKS0_56w81Vn1kKXesvcTTvb1QihyW6jbFeufrMpSgKS589eVk4KDhyVezFIi14cy7A6bL0rjSb38reYkhDu8/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-25.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgSNhColWhFdUJmv8moGKssplopHGIkps6C-NepOvFgPrjS90OeRZhnjKS0_56w81Vn1kKXesvcTTvb1QihyW6jbFeufrMpSgKS589eVk4KDhyVezFIi14cy7A6bL0rjSb38reYkhDu8/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-25.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526101613012529554" border="0" /></a>And, then back to town. The ride back was gorgeous. The sun was setting, the air was crisp, and the aroma of the sea and the cedar trees was nearly overpowering. We did get stopped for road contruction, and I was getting a little nervous about getting back to the boat on time. (Our tour had started at 3, and it was now nearly 7, and we were sailing at 7:30.)<br />I didn't even TRY to get the bike into the garage, but once again let Shannon take over. But, I got to the curb, put the kickstand down, turned the bike off, and breathed a huge, happy sign of relief.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNWd_BN1rATZu7MObyUJOVO1zav3VZjOR-adVAJupKgC8G9wSPgP9I7D3VSik7Sbkm-JTSHK5F7fs93HMASr_fRM2isq9MCKOeVv5WDesMLDNIRJeBa4py_mmu7msFdcqaCteXoaR2nU/s1600/ketchican+bike+ride-26.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 291px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNWd_BN1rATZu7MObyUJOVO1zav3VZjOR-adVAJupKgC8G9wSPgP9I7D3VSik7Sbkm-JTSHK5F7fs93HMASr_fRM2isq9MCKOeVv5WDesMLDNIRJeBa4py_mmu7msFdcqaCteXoaR2nU/s320/ketchican+bike+ride-26.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526101611538158290" border="0" /></a>Doug and I high-tailed it down the street to the ship, more giddy than is seemly for two middle-aged people. We went to the main dining room for dinner and we both had a glass of wine. To celebrate.<br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /><br /></span>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-46389389610234768572010-06-15T16:39:00.000-07:002010-06-15T17:05:23.617-07:00Azusa CanyonFor weeks now, ever since talking with our neighbor, Jeremy, The Male has been itching to ride up to <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?ll=34.221135,-117.845621&spn=0.11,0.18&t=h&z=15&q=34.221135,-117.845621%28Azusa+Canyon%29">Azusa Canyon</a>, in the San Gabriel Mountains. This past Saturday seemed like as good a day as any, so off we went.<br /><br />I'm still not up to freeway riding, mainly because of the vibration at higher speeds. (More about that later.) So, that meant we had to get there via city streets. I wouldn't recommend it! It's grueling to ride that far with the traffic and the constant stop and go of the traffic signals.<br /><br />It is a total of 41 miles from Long Beach to the reservoir where we turned around, and we went up the canyon road only about 5 miles. The views were lovely; we stopped at an overlook, looking down at the water. The only sounds were occasional cars and crotch rockets out for their zippy ride up the canyon.<br /><br />We had a quick snack, I took some photos, and we headed back home.<br /><br />A little ways into the ride back, my bike cut out starting out from a stop light (One of the 17,000 between here and there.) There were cars behind me, frustrated I'm sure at this <span style="font-style: italic;">woman</span> who thinks she can ride a motorcycle. I got it going after the second try ---- whew!!!--- and I pulled into the first gas station I could find, a little shaken. We filled up the tank, and then when Doug started the ST, his battery was dead.<br /><br />Oh, I prayed. He had mistakenly left the engine on while refueling my bike. We didn't panic, at least not too much, waited a bit, and Oh, Glory, it started up. We made it home without further mechanical incident.<br /><br />Going down Beach Blvd. we were stopped at a light (sigh), with me just a bit off The Male's rear tire, when a big Harley pulled up next to me. I turned to get a look, and I see it's another woman! A very clean-cut, lipsticked, beanie-helmeted, jean-and-t-shirt biker chick! Really, she could have been a lawyer. She gave me a big smile and a nod and rode off into the sunset. I'm in the club now.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazPgqDhQ0skPM7WSgWpCE5IKTAe5FwMR5-b9b0KuxydcmBrptK5q0IYYG9LSPEk7QF53H9mSpb6AtzgWykVjfNGYvH1K-P85aw11L0y1lUtGp1o0gteKLL0_-_jcLQCjIzsWQ1k-7AdE/s1600/Azusa+Canyon.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazPgqDhQ0skPM7WSgWpCE5IKTAe5FwMR5-b9b0KuxydcmBrptK5q0IYYG9LSPEk7QF53H9mSpb6AtzgWykVjfNGYvH1K-P85aw11L0y1lUtGp1o0gteKLL0_-_jcLQCjIzsWQ1k-7AdE/s320/Azusa+Canyon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483154235024121106" border="0" /></a>As for the vibration in my hands and feet, it seems that the new grips are just the ticket for my hands. I got a new pair of<a href="http://www.leatherup.com/p/Womens-Motorcycle-boots/Tourmaster-Womens-Solution-Waterproof-Road-Boots/62587.html"> boots</a> this week, too, and with their rubber soles, that should be <span style="font-style: italic;">much </span>more comfortable. I have been wearing a pair of non-riding shortie boots I've had for years. Their hard soles don't dampen the vibration much. I'm hoping to convince The Male that a ride out the 22 to<a href="http://www.cookscorners.com/"> Cook's Corner</a> is just the ticket for our next outing.Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-3900961861072165832010-06-13T07:04:00.000-07:002010-06-13T15:11:11.073-07:00Catching Up<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm0EljXnRi1Z17z9thupkACJ1FaS15W2aqArqXrcKokJBswCxyFGn9PI63r2Mgw8yNAgQ5U8HIRnF00tPrwH2x8FC6qLty8LJwFbGkc9RGegmA-Gkg5hqDXw4HrjoBcH56kbRyJ0Bc2wU/s1600/photo(2).jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm0EljXnRi1Z17z9thupkACJ1FaS15W2aqArqXrcKokJBswCxyFGn9PI63r2Mgw8yNAgQ5U8HIRnF00tPrwH2x8FC6qLty8LJwFbGkc9RGegmA-Gkg5hqDXw4HrjoBcH56kbRyJ0Bc2wU/s320/photo(2).jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482381737220509026" border="0" /></a>Well, despite the lack of blog postings in the past weeks, I have been out and about.<br />We took a 51-mile journey from Long Beach around the Palos Verdes peninsula, via Pacific Coast Highway. It wasn't terrible! Actually, once we got off PCH and on to the road that circles Palos Verdes, it was a lovely ride. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVwzBr5xEk7wmHGd0CKXmvsvz7Y2J0ioLfPNrY0vEykwrrEjE6DbCz7SjZgFLfYnutKM2dwBJbOxa0YDg1i1SwopoMTDzPXvptl7QXWQ4aXUiYdwGXf9qAkmoLGskOuZVpYgeTY-Cb00w/s1600/photo+%283%29.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVwzBr5xEk7wmHGd0CKXmvsvz7Y2J0ioLfPNrY0vEykwrrEjE6DbCz7SjZgFLfYnutKM2dwBJbOxa0YDg1i1SwopoMTDzPXvptl7QXWQ4aXUiYdwGXf9qAkmoLGskOuZVpYgeTY-Cb00w/s320/photo+%283%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482381726462615666" border="0" /></a>We had beautiful views of the ocean and Catalina Island. We took a break at a lookout point for a quick snack and to give my hands a break.<br />On the way home, we took the 110 for a few miles, until my hands went to sleep from the vibration. Yikes! We got off ASAP, and I killed the bike at the stop sign at the bottom of the off-ramp, due to my hands not functioning.<br />We got off on a little side street, I shook off the needles, and we got back on PCH for the rest of the way home.<br />Soon after, The Male ordered me a set of vibration-reduction hand grips, with a throttle rocker, a little platform that enables you to control speed by pressing it with your palm. I call them my "old-lady grips." Now, I'm just waiting for my new boots with the rubber soles, which will hopefully cut the vibration to my feet. That vibration at higher speeds is the main reason I am steering clear of the freeways for now.<br />And, then to continue the tradition of holiday rides, we went out on Memorial Day, too. Friends had invited us to their annual Memorial Day Pool Party and BBQ, the The Male decided we should ride there.<br />So, we packed up the saddle bags with clothes to change into (from riding gear) and our picnic food to share and barbecue, and bungee-strapped our folding lawn chairs to the ST's back seat. Which we discovered, isn't a good idea, as the chairs stuck out on either side of the bike in direct line with his rear view mirrors.<br />I tried to sneak in and out without drawing too much attention to the fact that we had ridden our bikes there. But, all that was thwarted as we were leaving and a friend made an announcement, " Hey, they're leaving; let's go watch."<br />I was just praying that if we dilly-dallied around long enough they would all go back inside, which almost succeeded. We had trouble getting our headsets synced, and all but three of my friends went back to the action. As soon as I started my bike, three heads popped up from behind a truck.<br />Sigh.<br />At least I didn't drop it on my way out...Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-68694029024042494692010-03-29T13:23:00.001-07:002010-03-29T13:45:26.824-07:00Our Graduation, of SortsThis past Saturday, we headed back down to Oceanside for another session with Dorothy and Garry, our riding coaches. The weather was gorgeous!<br />We met at the DMV for some slow-speed drills: straight line, figure 8s, hill drills, and weaving. I will admit, I was quite rusty at first. It's been over a month since I've been on my bike (between one or the other of us being sick and the SoCal rainy season), and it showed. But, Dorothy and Garry are great coaches, very patient and encouraging.<br />After about an hour or so, they conferred and decided that we were ready for the open road. Yippee!<br />We drove back to their house and enjoyed just talking motorcycles for a bit, especially after seeing their stable. Nice!<br />Then it was time to saddle up. Garry got out his bike, Doug rode Frank, and I took little Ruby, and off we went. First, through the quiet streets of their neighborhood, single file to avoid car doors and kids. Then, off for farther reaches. It was so fun!<br />But, after the power of my bike, poor little Ruby really struggled. I had to twist and twist and twist the throttle to get up to 50-55mph. And, then the foot pegs vibrated so much that I couldn't leave my feet on them! Not good. Fortunately, we didn't spend too much time at freeway speed.<br />Here we are stopping for a stretch break and a little instruction on curves. As you can see, it couldn't have been a more lovely day.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD3Y6pGazEJjxU_gcUi7z9pq5BShA1D_Sq0ZL9E05HnWCMB0fkDCee_8U95DCq_8olf5_gH_AeKaf0nlGwc7SVrppith6wRSXpm4o0p-LsVLaFC2rlXNkQhI8Sep09DaC6lwd_cINYV1Y/s1600/IMGP4526_edited-1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD3Y6pGazEJjxU_gcUi7z9pq5BShA1D_Sq0ZL9E05HnWCMB0fkDCee_8U95DCq_8olf5_gH_AeKaf0nlGwc7SVrppith6wRSXpm4o0p-LsVLaFC2rlXNkQhI8Sep09DaC6lwd_cINYV1Y/s320/IMGP4526_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454157093817595042" border="0" /></a>Then, it was back on the bikes and through the hills. This is what riding should be! No stoplights every block, no multiple lanes filled with cars merging, andwithout the traffic of the greater LA area. <br />It was so much fun.<br />After about an hour and a half, and 35 miles, we were back at Dorothy and Garry's.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbS5GhdFpA6RxE89lpZGiZoR85907VcDeHVt38aQIhvfTW51uZpAyzNmdtkOekaWz5pOMzFiFjTiGUu7EO1_bsNSOT4SPfoa23JaG2LJXLNwFcdwrV-EcwyzTJzHVOfgbx3EzUc2oLJC8/s1600/IMGP4529_edited-1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbS5GhdFpA6RxE89lpZGiZoR85907VcDeHVt38aQIhvfTW51uZpAyzNmdtkOekaWz5pOMzFiFjTiGUu7EO1_bsNSOT4SPfoa23JaG2LJXLNwFcdwrV-EcwyzTJzHVOfgbx3EzUc2oLJC8/s320/IMGP4529_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454157096086136434" border="0" /></a>We both feel that we probably don't need to go back for more practice on their bikes. But, when we have the stamina, we'd like to ride ours down and have them give us some instruction particular to our bikes.<br />We got back in the car and were stunned to find that it was 6pm! We had started at the DMV a little after 1. No wonder we were exhausted by the time we got home!<br />I HIGHLY recommend riding coaches for new riders, especially women. Motorcycles can be so intimidating and so can the guys riding them, and lessons go a long way in gaining confidence. It certainly has been true for me.Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-55197547130681689752010-02-20T15:09:00.000-08:002010-02-20T15:23:49.427-08:00A Bike Ride and Ice Cream: A Winning CombinationSo, a few Sundays ago, The Male decided he needed a trip to the barber's and enticed me along with the promise of a stop at our favorite little ice cream shop. It's privately owned by a family with roots in Mexico, and all their ice cream is hand-made in the Mexican tradition. It is incredibly delicious. I'd go out in my jammies for ice cream at this place. It is that good.<br /><br />This was actually our second ride there. Two weeks earlier, we also suited up, skipping the stop at the barber's though, and took three flavors to a friend for her birthday. That was great fun.<br /><br />The flavors are so different: sweet potato, tamarind, guava, and more. They also have paletas, Mexican fruit popsicles, both with and without cream. They are a delicious treat in the summer. We usually bring a cooler along to keep everything cold until we get home, but we've discovered that saddlebags are a good substitute.<br /><br />I think these trips were a milestone for me. The ride is just far enough to be challenging, but not so far as to be risky. There are enough traffic distractions to keep me alert, but not so much as to make myself a danger. We also had to stop at the gas station both trips, which was great practice in tight maneuvering. <br /><br />Hummm.... I wonder what the weather will be like tomorrow afternoon? Perhaps I can convince The Male he needs another hair cut....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJpXBCgpJ8jirRQ4qERypaeKEYAD8pC0KeFwpZMeVMEMe7Qj7VsqQ6i2OgRFDS7nhk5ACc51enlbSdituyIdZ-nY65iebVuBBtj43ZkD5vkpx7MnSGZOlyW_5WoLij9K2WF8-evgj5xg/s1600-h/IMGP4438_edited-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 317px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJpXBCgpJ8jirRQ4qERypaeKEYAD8pC0KeFwpZMeVMEMe7Qj7VsqQ6i2OgRFDS7nhk5ACc51enlbSdituyIdZ-nY65iebVuBBtj43ZkD5vkpx7MnSGZOlyW_5WoLij9K2WF8-evgj5xg/s320/IMGP4438_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440469412837330162" border="0" /></a>Safely at the barber's.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVgXor4uGlSxbMi8TccdJxLdAVw8dLrY79sXbM1_mDIBpJy7V2EIS3H1w047iqmiXpotHQqoNeWmLyy8IbJaGkTkv8zG_yhUJrvTjq5CAjcUXLaTA223hGpYVLvzuRi3t9zWJzZL0-vK8/s1600-h/IMGP4440.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVgXor4uGlSxbMi8TccdJxLdAVw8dLrY79sXbM1_mDIBpJy7V2EIS3H1w047iqmiXpotHQqoNeWmLyy8IbJaGkTkv8zG_yhUJrvTjq5CAjcUXLaTA223hGpYVLvzuRi3t9zWJzZL0-vK8/s320/IMGP4440.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440469418748241842" border="0" /></a>The mileage from the gas station, which is about a mile from our house.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLiKBU9ygC5h5rUpHLMyAGmlg9AD90ggx2QaEcmAA3FZ540nHRo4shrFKMU1UD8K1oujvVTu-vjJKEQbrsUa74RLe9TG2CDfQCr4d76qL5xIj7wbi5zOscYpSiUCFO5PjjSDztO1MDLN0/s1600-h/IMGP4442_edited-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLiKBU9ygC5h5rUpHLMyAGmlg9AD90ggx2QaEcmAA3FZ540nHRo4shrFKMU1UD8K1oujvVTu-vjJKEQbrsUa74RLe9TG2CDfQCr4d76qL5xIj7wbi5zOscYpSiUCFO5PjjSDztO1MDLN0/s320/IMGP4442_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440469421473991762" border="0" /></a>La Flor de Mexico; go get some ice cream there right now. Seriously, they need your business!Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-15015791554733777092009-12-29T09:58:00.000-08:002009-12-29T10:04:43.265-08:00More Helmet Stuff<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn7YAxcjRSQwGL2dx7xEaoht_JcqI4BPvHgbzrU91DulTPLiP-APPH0QN8rxFiuRtJ7AzONpiE7xa0A4Ka9qEL8njpR94CnYXM2RRuc9XFaXIgT1EOPrnuZh2bBV9IGkCUtSx1ckgFatw/s1600-h/barbara+on+the+couch+with+helmet_edited-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn7YAxcjRSQwGL2dx7xEaoht_JcqI4BPvHgbzrU91DulTPLiP-APPH0QN8rxFiuRtJ7AzONpiE7xa0A4Ka9qEL8njpR94CnYXM2RRuc9XFaXIgT1EOPrnuZh2bBV9IGkCUtSx1ckgFatw/s320/barbara+on+the+couch+with+helmet_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420720555990282066" border="0" /></a>I have no idea...Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-35619335690200331162009-12-23T08:32:00.000-08:002009-12-23T08:50:05.165-08:00The Helmet and StuffI bought my helmet before I got my bike. Just in case I went for a ride two-up with The Male. It was an enlightening experience to be sure. Helmets are expensive. Very Expensive. As in we've owned cars that were worth less than a good helmet.<br />On the other hand, the most important part of me is between my chin and the top of my head, so I think it's a worthy investment. I will be on a moving motorcycle, surrounded by nothing but a cushion of air, and counting on nothing but my fine sense of balance to keep me upright.<br />People have died from traumatic brain injuries by just falling down, for Heaven's sake. Imagine what damage could be done to my head at traffic speeds....<br />So, off we went to shop for a helmet.<br />I learned a few things.<br />That I don't "look" like a biker chick.<br />That I have an unnaturally large head. (Which shouldn't be such a surprise as my children do, too.)<br />That one should not wear earrings on a day spent pulling tight-fitting helmets on and off one's (large-ish) head.<br /><br />This scene was repeated in nearly every store we visited:<br />Clerk, to The Male, "Can I help you?"<br />The Male, "Yes, we're looking for a helmet for my wife."<br />Clerk, looking at me dubiously, "For you???"<br /><br />And, a bonus scene:<br />Me, "This one is too small, too."<br />Clerk, "Wow, you don't LOOK like you have a large head."<br /><br />Oh, it was a rough day...<br /><br />But, we found one that fit, although I did have to order larger cheek pads. (I sold the originals on Ebay.) I choose the color that I call "please-don't -hit-me yellow." Looks rather cartoonish, but again, I'm rather fond of my head and really don't want to test the helmet's ability to protect it.<br /><br />The store called a few days later to say my order was in. So, we got it home and I tried it on, seeing how the cheek pads were fitting. The Male wanted to do this as I was cooking dinner, and things needed attending to, so the following picture was taken. Enjoy.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhELGPSj-_iU4WHv3X7GxDOAlz3ySMqBGJwb4lrog4UrDa0Ew2wzs1LO51UGy3WwFt3BnYTwI95MUqBk8dN2lFgAG5-EBVmWiIvvf5WOcvSqbuudKypdFuhfsXYnaMjBfwD7lShuomv8fw/s1600-h/barbara+in+kitchen+with+helmet_edited-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 153px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhELGPSj-_iU4WHv3X7GxDOAlz3ySMqBGJwb4lrog4UrDa0Ew2wzs1LO51UGy3WwFt3BnYTwI95MUqBk8dN2lFgAG5-EBVmWiIvvf5WOcvSqbuudKypdFuhfsXYnaMjBfwD7lShuomv8fw/s320/barbara+in+kitchen+with+helmet_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418474309283808978" border="0" /></a>Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4533950811377092418.post-66987918341299761992009-11-05T15:05:00.000-08:002009-11-05T15:25:38.428-08:00A Very Scary Halloween Indeed...Last Saturday was quite frightful.<br />No, not because of that awful "holiday" which I mentioned above.<br />No, rather because The Male led me out into traffic on my bike for the first time.<br />All I can say is that I'm really glad that we don't have bike-to-bike communication yet, or I'd be having to 'splain where I learned those words.<br />We've been practicing in the local community college stadium parking lot for months now. I've done lots of slow maneuvers, stops and starts, figure-eights, etc.<br />We have an industrial park under construction only about a mile away, which is the closest thing we'll ever come to open roads here in the Big City. I've gotten up to 45 miles an hour--which was quite the exhilarating experience, I'm telling you. Noisy, too. The road is right at the end of our local airport's runway and I thought a plane was taking off overhead! Nope, just the wind rushing by my please-don't-hit-me-yellow helmet.<br />We've gone on the quiet roads between here and there.<br />We've circled our local neighborhood park in quiet residential area.<br />I haven't dropped my bike since that first truly awful, no good, very bad first day.<br />But, this! This was the Real Thing. A 4-lane street, with impatient, hurried, Big City drivers.<br />YIKES!<br />We were supposed to go just one block, make a right turn, another block, right turn, etc.<br />But, he just kept going. One block, another, a lane change, past the library, past the grocery store, another lane change, finally a right turn!!! Oh, joy!<br />Please, oh, please, turn on this quiet street.<br />OK, how about the next one?!?!<br />Oh, no!<br />He's heading for a big 4-laner again!<br />Can I make the turn???<br />Oh, please don't let me crash!!!<br />Phew.<br />Please let me get home in one piece!<br />Yay! Our driveway!<br />When can we go again???Barbarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00943834842725529866noreply@blogger.com0