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Motorcycle to Cal Sailing this morning. Motorcycle-Amtrak worked splendidly before, but I wanted to hit storage, too. I could have set Amtrak up so I had a few hour layover at the Richmond stop and got in 1.5 hours of walking, but I didn't.
Taking the motorcycle reminded me how spazzy Californians are. There was some organized athletic event that included a run, and I watched a driver next to me see a whole bunch of people running into the crosswalk/multiuser path, freak out, gas it, and just manage to cut them off and block the crosswalk, and then be stuck there at a stop sign for ten minutes until cross traffic cleared. I'll leave anecdotes at what I consider the most egregious.
Taught lessons for the better part of the day, swam in the bay, got cornered on the way out of the drink by a very chatty lady with a lot of questions who also wanted to tell me about her swimming. She compared the SF Bay to the Polar Bear Club, but called it the Dolphin Club. I knew what she was talking about and declared the water warm and myself not a Californian.
West Marine and Whale Point were closed by the time I wound up there not yet having hopped on the Interstate, so no more caustic holding tank ooze.
I pulled in to the parking lot of the storage place and drug out the smart-device, turned it, and started looking through photos to find my gate code (most information lives on the computer so this is not an optimized ritual). An SUV pulled up and parked at the code entry thing, but no one got out to enter any code. After an exaggerated period of waiting (done talking to people especially Californians thanks), she got out and tried to get me to enter my code without even bothering with a backstory about why she forgot hers. My reply was not suitable for her purposes, polite as it was. She left. Or maybe she's still circling the block.
Two things in particular were on my list of shopping amongst my own possessions: the SJ4000 Chinese GoPro knock-off, and a road bike rim. The SJ4000 wasn't there, but I found it in the bin of stuff at the boat that I didn't bother to inventory again when I got here. The rims included three front rims in states not closely examined, the 36 spoke "bombproof" rim I did PBP on (I think... I remember wanting it in time for something, and the now defunct bike shop having an older fellow who was infamously clueless who informed the rims weren't in yet, even through tracking said they were, and even as I was standing there and could see the box with my name written on it behind the counter, which of course he refused to turn around and look at), and two rims that had been rear rims that I cut the spokes out of that were only slightly tacoed and may or may or not be passable when properly trued instead of what I was doing to wheels. The 36 spoke "bombproof" rim, the heaviest 700c made by Mavic, with eyelets for the spokes, was cracking around the eyelets and had some stripped spoke nipples (not the same, generally), a sure sign I had been torquing the wrong spoke trying to do something stupid. I fully expect to save large amounts of money on rims now that I own a share of a truing stand. No rims were deemed worth the haul back and in the future, I shall be doing some more recycling.
Bicycle bag was where I thought it might have gotten stuffed -- in the big box full of vaguely outdoors themed items.
Heading to Cal Sailing today was motivated by promises of strong winds. Winds were only moderate while I was there, but on the way back, through the Marin headlands route, keeping the motorcycle upright was challenging. I was seriously considering parking somewhere and getting a ride. Recovering from getting hit by gusts, I'd find myself going straight, more or less, but at a completely different angle of heel.
Buffalo-veggie wings for dinner after grazing on snack foods at Cal Sailing for brunch/tea. Boat's 'a rockin'.
Took my first quiz yesterday in this Native Peoples class:
Taking the motorcycle reminded me how spazzy Californians are. There was some organized athletic event that included a run, and I watched a driver next to me see a whole bunch of people running into the crosswalk/multiuser path, freak out, gas it, and just manage to cut them off and block the crosswalk, and then be stuck there at a stop sign for ten minutes until cross traffic cleared. I'll leave anecdotes at what I consider the most egregious.
Taught lessons for the better part of the day, swam in the bay, got cornered on the way out of the drink by a very chatty lady with a lot of questions who also wanted to tell me about her swimming. She compared the SF Bay to the Polar Bear Club, but called it the Dolphin Club. I knew what she was talking about and declared the water warm and myself not a Californian.
West Marine and Whale Point were closed by the time I wound up there not yet having hopped on the Interstate, so no more caustic holding tank ooze.
I pulled in to the parking lot of the storage place and drug out the smart-device, turned it, and started looking through photos to find my gate code (most information lives on the computer so this is not an optimized ritual). An SUV pulled up and parked at the code entry thing, but no one got out to enter any code. After an exaggerated period of waiting (done talking to people especially Californians thanks), she got out and tried to get me to enter my code without even bothering with a backstory about why she forgot hers. My reply was not suitable for her purposes, polite as it was. She left. Or maybe she's still circling the block.
Two things in particular were on my list of shopping amongst my own possessions: the SJ4000 Chinese GoPro knock-off, and a road bike rim. The SJ4000 wasn't there, but I found it in the bin of stuff at the boat that I didn't bother to inventory again when I got here. The rims included three front rims in states not closely examined, the 36 spoke "bombproof" rim I did PBP on (I think... I remember wanting it in time for something, and the now defunct bike shop having an older fellow who was infamously clueless who informed the rims weren't in yet, even through tracking said they were, and even as I was standing there and could see the box with my name written on it behind the counter, which of course he refused to turn around and look at), and two rims that had been rear rims that I cut the spokes out of that were only slightly tacoed and may or may or not be passable when properly trued instead of what I was doing to wheels. The 36 spoke "bombproof" rim, the heaviest 700c made by Mavic, with eyelets for the spokes, was cracking around the eyelets and had some stripped spoke nipples (not the same, generally), a sure sign I had been torquing the wrong spoke trying to do something stupid. I fully expect to save large amounts of money on rims now that I own a share of a truing stand. No rims were deemed worth the haul back and in the future, I shall be doing some more recycling.
Bicycle bag was where I thought it might have gotten stuffed -- in the big box full of vaguely outdoors themed items.
Heading to Cal Sailing today was motivated by promises of strong winds. Winds were only moderate while I was there, but on the way back, through the Marin headlands route, keeping the motorcycle upright was challenging. I was seriously considering parking somewhere and getting a ride. Recovering from getting hit by gusts, I'd find myself going straight, more or less, but at a completely different angle of heel.
Buffalo-veggie wings for dinner after grazing on snack foods at Cal Sailing for brunch/tea. Boat's 'a rockin'.
Took my first quiz yesterday in this Native Peoples class:
