RSS 200 miles to my mailbox
Filed in BlogI actually set the alarm this morning, which meant that I woke up a few minutes before it was due to go off. Don woke up around the time I was making breakfast, and so we decided to go back to the Bay Area together. In the end it took two hours to get out of the house because I couldn’t find my post office box key, and getting our mail was the main objective of this excursion. ;)
In the end I just decided to go there with my ID and hope for the best.
What a ride it was! A lovely, sunny day, not too windy. A little on the nippy side, sure, but a lot of that has to do with my gloves getting increasingly threadbare. We crossed the Delta on the way there and then swept down 680. Traffic was refreshingly light and we decided to take a recreational road.
Morrison Canyon Road is the tiniest little road you could imagine–and this from a Brit who’s driven round Scotland and England. It is a short cut of sorts from the freeway down to Mission in Fremont, but it also requires deep concentration. And, at this time of year, the rock fall kibble (much of it rather sharp) was quite prolific: my tire slid more than once.
Oh, and we had a moo-’ncounter! On the way up (from Vargas Road) we had to wait for a traffic jam that consisted of two oncoming cars and three oncoming cows, randomly wandering around the road. Eventually all traffic dissipated and we were able to resume the ride, landing smack dab in the center of Milpitas’ lunchtime crunch. Fun! (Not.)
We went to the post office and emerged with a fat wad of mail. For all my efforts with changes of address last month, the volume of mail doesn’t seem to have shrunk at all. I guess it might make sense to do this trip once every couple of weeks instead of once every month, until we finally have our post office boxes here. But there’s a waiting list, and it’s a long way to go just to pick up mail, with no time even to play once we get there–with a short break at Wendy’s, it was already nearly two by the time we left the post office.
We headed straight back and, miracle of miracles, missed almost all the commute traffic. The ride back was something else. The route is almost all freeways except for the short stretch of 84 that we took to cut off the bad 680/580 exchange, and I was really just in my groove. We danced in and out of the traffic, all this done as a duet of bikes, each anticipating the other’s moves. Only once was I separated from Don, briefly, and we were home in just over two hours even with breaks.
As we reached home, I noticed that my mileometer had just clicked over to 36,000 miles. Another 800, and I will have done 30,000 miles on Beastie.
Hmm, where can I go that’s 400 miles away? ;)
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