point reyes (wine and sleep and bike and bike and bike and wine and bike and wine and bike and wine and bike and bike and bike and bike and sleep and wake and cry)
Yesterday was epic. First, I more than doubled my all-time single-day distance record with 120 miles. Second, my bike was stolen. Yesterday was a long, grueling, pre-sunup to post-sundown affair in which I took my beloved paddy wagon for a final ride. I didn’t know this, but I don’t think I would have done anything differently. I pushed almost the whole way, only staying at Point Reyes for about 2 hours before turning around so I could make it back to Polk St. to see Grass Widow play. Going uphill at one point I addressed pain in words I cannot repeat here for the sake of professionalism – yet in an endearing way. I egged her on, whipped her, if you will. When I was tired I continued. Thirsty? Push on til the next town. I did. I rode that bike with passion and thanks. I did not take it for granted, like so many things that fall in the cracks – our own cracks, that we create through neglect – I cared for it deeply, and maintained it in ways I have never maintained anything. I was granted such freedoms when I bought that bike I never dreamed to possess… and now they’re gone. The following is a record of this last journey with my Kona, and probably what will be the last journey in a while (there are other things I need money for besides a new bike).
Nope, can’t do it yet.
Here are the pictures: