Frenchy's Rant

Just another week almost in the books, almost time to flip the calendar over once more, and  nothing really mind-shatteringly exciting has happened lately. Right now I’m in Detroit for a two day photography class that I’ve been looking forward to for a while. Hopefully, if the teacher is really good with us slow kids, I’ll learn enough to take some good pictures, and maybe even post a few. Big thanks to friends Tom and Jen for being such kind and gracious hosts to me in their home town last night. Good times!

Also have a few more ideas rattling around my tiny head, looking into starting a videos section on the blog, so not only will I be able to bore what few readers I have, now, with stupid videos to accompany the yawn inspiring blogs, I’ll be able to bore the illiterati too. A clear and sound marketing strategy for a blog that will continue  me no money whatsoever.

And other than that, the days are just, well, days speeding by on the old treadmill, typical factory-type work in the never-ending merry go round of television production. Even still, even though sometimes I feel like I’m caught in an endless loop, I still see it this way: any day spent upright on the right side of the grass is the Best Day Ever.

Sometimes things look better in the morning. My rear tire didn’t. It looked a little… tired. I guess all the playing around and fun we’ve had on all the awesome two lane roads with a slightly overloaded bike does have consequences after all.

Who knew?

I check the tire pressure. It is fine. The tire was starting to show some definite signs of wear, but wasn’t worn down to the cords, and seems to have enough life left in it to get us home, though it would be destined for the used-tire depot-in-the-sky before the next ride.

Within five hundred miles of home, we could either cut across to the boring superslab, or continue exploring the nooks and crannies of California’s beautiful inland two lane roads. The highway would be safer, in the event the rear tire decided to give up the ghost, at least we’d be close to civilization. But back roads are fun.

Guess which option we chose.

Most every trip has a climactic point, the one moment that defines the entire ride. Many times, the turn around point, when it’s time to stop exploring, stop going further away from home and start returning is that point. Not on this trip. The climatic point actually comes in tomorrow’s earth-shattering finale, so hang in there with me for one more post. Today we’ll just anticlimactically get to that point.

While I was away at GP Suspension, Sleeping Beauty grabbed the map and, after a few minutes of study picked a return route that, if I can manage to follow it, will put the upgraded fork internals through a vigorous workout.

We wind our way out of Oregon City, and head through pleasant, quaint  little towns. The road is more or less straight, and I find myself trying to test the fork by hitting every little bump, crack and pothole I can find. At first, I am not too sure about the improvement, but then again I’m not sure what I expected.

Welcome to Oregon.

The so-called ‘Beaver State’ is the furthest destination of not only the Oregon Trail, but also of our little joyride. In two short days it’ll be time to turn around and head for home. Of course, if we had a bit more time, and another Map-kin, we’d do what I really want to – keep heading north, all the way to Alaska. Ah well, guess that’ll have to wait until next year…

With all our quirky sightseeing the day before, we know that we’re a little behind schedule.  We’re going to have to put in a fairly long day to reach Oregon City. Once again it’s another of those get-up-and-get-ready-early mornings, Sleeping Beauty’s least favorite kind. Even with a full day ahead, we’re still tourists, and still want to see as many sights as possible along the way. That is the main reason for this ride, to see new things. We decide to make compromises on this day, stopping briefly when we can to take in a view or two. After a quick snapshot of the Battery Point lighthouse in Crescent City to add to the collection, we settle in for the journey ahead.

Every visit to Napa includes wineries, that’s almost a given. I’d venture to say that a fair amount of visits to Napa also include visits to the pharmacy, to stock up on Advil for the next morning’s inevitable wine tasting hangover. We did both. I doubt that many visits to the world’s most famous wine vine growing region take in some of the more off-beat sights.

I live for off-beat, and riding to a quirky attraction is probably the best reason to ride at all, so, after a fantastic breakfast of Advil and tap water, we’re up early once again (a disturbing trend of ‘up early’ seems to be evolving on this trip) to take in the quirkier sights of the area.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have to say that for the first time in recorded ride report history, somehow Sleeping Beauty was actually awake, geared up, packed and ready to ride before I was. Long before. And I heard about it for the rest of the day. I’ll just chalk it up to a lucky coincidence, and too much wine tasting in Napa, and leave it at that.

Our first stop of the day, touted as being featured in National Geographic, promises to be one of those Crap-Tastic roadside amusements that always sound much much better than they turn out to be.