This morning we sit in the kitchen with a map. Bruce asks if we'd like to do something other than ride our bikes from home. He suggests BARTing into the city (San Fransico) or going to lunch at a cafe in Napa. He even suggests driving to Napa and doing a short ride. We think about all these things. They all sound like fun. Then we decide we haven't had our fill yet of riding the roads where Tim grew up. Out the door we ride. We leave with Cindy and Bruce but keep going to the top of Calaveras. I love this ride. The climb is perfect. A constant up, but it has switch backs so it isn't ultra intense at one time. If you have genetically developed quads like mine (and the right gearing) you can spin it.
The way back down is like a Giant Slalom race course. Time to make perfect S's as my Mom would say. I taught skiing for a long time and a lot of kids say they hate making S's. They say it's boring, usually this means they don't know how to turn. I tricked them into learning to turn by leading them through a series of S's while pretending to make airplane noises. The corners are banked just right and I can't help but making airplane noises out loud. Tim joins me and we have a great time.
Today we take a shorter lunch and head out for a tacky single version of double Palomares. Yes, that's right a single Palomares is tacky. Must be like asking your parents for a ride down the block to track practice. Palomares is another beautiful summit that one should ride down the other side so they can climb it twice but we didn't have enough daylight so we settled. Just before the summit things got really steep but to the top we went. It was beautiful country here. Tim calls it "old California" I say it's how California should look. I guess too many people just like me came to stay.
We ride quickly back to Tim's folks where the aroma of apple pie fills the air. I make two pumpkin pies. I am a little worried about how my crust will turn out. Nobody likes a tough crust. Cindy's apple pie looks like a work of art. I've heard of people giving courtesy "mmmms" to as they choke down the leather some call crust. My reputation is at stake here. It's one thing to be known as "the girl with the pink bike;" it is quite another to be be known as "the girl with the pink bike that serves cowhide crust."
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