California (5 comments)
Flying into SFO, we were put into a holding pattern which, when displayed on the screen in front of my seat, reminded me of the roller coasters I'd ridden the previous weekend:
The captain announced that the traffic controller had planned to keep us holding for about an hour, but thought better of it. That was, unfortunately, a small portent of things to come. But they come later.
I spent a night in downtown San Francisco to start the weekend. To me, San Francisco feels a lot like Chicago, but cleaner with more terrain and palm trees. The Great Chicago Fire forced the city to be rebuilt in the 1871 and an earthquake did the same to San Francisco in 1906. I can't see much difference between 100-year-old and 130-year-old architecture and urban planning.
From there, I figured out the BART and Caltrain to make my way to San Jose, where Sarah lives. I met most of her local friends on Saturday night for karaoke. This is what my neck looks like when I'm singing Interstate Love Song:
(Photo by Meg Lindsay)
Up to this point, I had no out-of-the-ordinary injuries.
Anthony is one of Sarah's friends I met and happens to be really into riding mountain bikes at irresponsible speeds. Sarah's found it interesting, and had arranged to test ride a bike before I made my plans to visit. They were nice enough to get me a bike and let me come along. This bike:
That is an Ibis Mojo, a (roughly) $4,000 bicycle as equipped. It has a carbon fiber frame and it's a wonder of mechanical engineering that was largely wasted on me. As it was, I was amazed by how well the bike handled whatever I ran over. The suspension kept the wheels on the ground as much as possible while gracefully absorbing the impact of the small rocks that littered the trail. I expect that any bike in that class would do the same, but I can only gush about the one I rode.
After climbing to the top of the mountain, it was naturally time to coast down the other side. That was fun. Not surprisingly, that's also when I found my limits. I was cruising down the trail, hopping off rocks and having a splendid time when I failed to notice a turn ahead and went into the corner slightly too fast.
That was when I abruptly stopped riding my four thousand dollar bicycle.
I have a very clear memory of looking down to see the front wheel turned 90° to the left and wedged against a rock as I flew over it. It was awesome. Anthony got the bike back in order and we finished up the ride. I spent the next two days finding new cuts and bruises.
After that, I tried to come home. That wasn't nearly as much fun, so it's another story.