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So after killing fleas for an hour and denuding my feline friend of some of the hair below her shoulders, I stuff her in my jersey and set off for the office. I looked down once when she was still, and there was a tiny kitten head, fur brushed back by the breeze, upside down and, if she could be, smiling. I met a kitten with blue grey fur and white boots on every paw on a country road in California. The type A, making, charging, changing the world types striding at you from every angle just to go brush their teeth. I don't remember sleeping but I do remember a dream.
The kind of thing other people, when they see the two of you, stop what they're doing and shake their heads at it. The food is good but the crowd is exhausting, disorienting. I passed a woman on a long flat and she said "Jesus I thought you were a car." Climbed a road that felt like a wall.
It's incredible how fast this bike goes in a tail wind.
I'd be surprised if they'd made it up the driveway on a bike. The chicken man (he has chickens hanging off his back and his tent, plus rhinestoned spandex and an ostrich feather in his helmet) must be 65 and weigh a good 250.
Work you could have observed in the age of Augustus. The towns going by smell like pie and and gasoline. Ate grilled artichokes by a highway overpass in a monster field in Watsonville and listened to a once/still beautiful 60 year old woman tell me why we should be grateful for this fine country.
White mist highlighting the white underbellies of the early berries.
A Spanish girl with no clips or cleats climbed it right next to me. There are people on this ride who have trouble walking from the tent to the toilet. How the Hell they're going to make it to LA, how they put in the hours every day astonishes me.
whatever, staffing rest stops every ten or fifteen miles fitted out to that day's theme: drag ladies brownie kitchen, disco bathing suit ice pops, Village People oranges and bananas, they're endlessly inventive, kind and they're lifesavers.
Two thousand plus little mortal engines in lycra rarring to go. Half Moon bay, astounding coastal views not 30 miles from the Presidio, kids on fixed wheel bikes climbing by me like stormtroopers, and the forests of the penninsula on the ocean side. I remember a little farm town in a gulley with an old railroad station now a home hiding behind the trees, rails themselves long gone. Threatening the health of all those who can't sleep. I'm gonna claim I rode 600 miles because by mistake I rode to and from and then back to the Cow Palace the day before the official ride began. I did three of the hills on the route twice, one of them was four miles long so that gets me up to 597. One woman hit the deck 1/2 mile from the finish and 50 feet in front of me. More people fell, crashed or wrecked during the 7 miles stretch from the bay to Fairfax High School than I saw go down along the entire route. Aids Lifecycle 2017 - done as of Saturday as we rolled into LA under police escort and orange cone lanes thru Santa Monica, Wilshire and Melrose. Or as the young officer in Bridge on the River Kwai said ....."madness....madness.." I'll be brief.
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All long the route, all the routes, volunteers cheer you on, handing out strawberries, cookies, water, or simply smiles and cow bells.