The Wrong Bike and the Food Truck Burrito
'No Ferris Wheel'

What We're Doing On the 4th, 5th and 6th

Loading the bikes on the rack on the silver car.

Driving over the Bay Bridge through San Francisco to a ball park just south of the airport.

Jim and Charlie riding 11 or so miles on a winding path down the coast to near the headquarters of (not-the-Delphic) Oracle.

Driving over the San Mateo Bridge past the hospital where my dad worked for most of his career to my parents' house.

Hanging out at my parents' house for a short or long visit (Charlie tends toward the former -- I guess he just likes to 'check in').

Driving back home through Berkeley and putting the bikes in the garage.

Resting at our house with a timer.

Taking the bikes out of the garage.

Jim and Charlie doing their daily 9-mile route in Berkeley -- and (a new habit as of this past Tuesday) a 16-mile ride to Richmond, with a McDonalds stop inbetween.

Then home and (1) a visit from my parents or (2) a trip to Ferris Wheel i.e., a county fair for carnival rides.

(We had a bit more of an adventure than we'd bargained for when we went to the Marin County Fair on Thursday night, could not find parking so I dropped off Jim and Charlie who stood in long lines while I hunted down a small spot at the back of a school parking lot, had a happy time standing in a very very long line for a swing, walked vigorously back to the silver car, made a number of wrong turns (we were in a totally unfamiliar place and it was dark) to get to a McDonalds, worked Charlie through a panic attack that set the car rocking furiously for a few minutes, found the drive-thru line for the McDonalds and got Charlie his habitual order, rode over the Richmon-San Rafael Bridge and took in the beauty of the water and the surrounding mountains, drove down the freeway and over a hill and were home.)

The overall events of our days vary little. Adventure, excitement, fun, harum-scarum moments, sheer moments of joy are in the details.



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