I had taken care to choose a nice, scenic spot to wash out my front end, so we sat and made some phone calls and enjoyed the scenery, then turned around and went back to paved roads.
Then we did something like Summit to Zayante, to Mt Hermon Road so we could go to Santa Cruz for Crepe House goodness, then 9 to Alba to Empire Grade, to Ice Cream Grade, where I pulled out at the corner to animatedly beg Paul to pull a yellow jacket out of my jacket, where it had been stinging me repeatedly. (hooray) After some pouting, I really did want Ice Cream for my owie, but the best I could do was to ride Ice Cream Grade, to Pine Flat, back to Empire Grade, to Felton Empire Road, to 9 through Boulder Crick, down Bear Creek Road, then home.
Crashing and getting attacked by yellow jackets made me think I should really cut my losses and go home before something really bad did happen, so I am glad to be home safely, but I don't understand why there is no margarita in my hand!
the views expressed in this blog are boring and inconsequential, and are obviously mine and not those of my employer, family, friends, or any other sane person. Half this shit isn't true, and if you knew me, you'd know that. If you don't know me, why are you reading this?