Last Friday I rode into San Francisco. Right before the Waldo Tunnel traffic started to crawl so I started lane splitting legally for the first time in four years. There was one motorcycle ahead of me leading the way for a pack of five or six including me. We sailed over the Golden Gate Bridge till the tollbooths then went off in different directions. It was a thing of beauty except for the jerks that tried to squeeze us out by driving too close to a bunch of motorcycles riding down the middle of the of the lanes, perfectly legal!
Last night after rehearsal I rode home from Sebastopol in thick fog. I can’t remember the last time I was in fog so thick it. I could actually see the aerodynamics of my motorcycle. Little eddies of fog swirling about my fairings, illuminated by oncoming traffic. I did not mind the cold air; I was enjoying the ride too much. I am getting into a Santa Rosa, North Bay, and Bay Area grove but feel guilty about it.
I feel bad for Caryn because she is working so hard on her masters while I go swim laps at the pool, bike on the trails around the city and go for runs in the state park full of deer, turkey and mountain lions. We did get to go out together on her birthday and went bar hoping downtown but right now who knows when she will be home because she is attending to someone’s labor.
* YAY, I hear the garage door opening, she’s home!*