Feb. 24th, 2010

A thought entered my brain while half awake, a memory of some good times. ...

It was some time in the 80's, if I recall about 1985. I decided to do Rosarito-Ensenada with a friend named Frosene. The journey started this way.....

I arrived at Frosene's house the evening before we left to have her ask her father if we could use his old truck, as using my Volkswagen bug was going to be a bit cramped. She asked, and we left driving an early 60's Chevy truck, faded and missing paint, and door locks that didn't work, the perfect vehicle for Baja California.

The drive down wasn't bad, and in the early morning hours we found ourselves in Rosarito. We looked for a place to park and eventually left the truck on the main street through town. We unloaded the bikes, and found a place in the mass of 25,000 other souls who were going to ride that day. To describe this throng was beyond words. Think of what a group of bicycles would look like filling a wide two lane highway for about a half mile, all making the last minute preparations for a 50 mile journey through rural Baja.

At approximately 10 a.m. the start happened. It took but a few minutes as I passed the official banner, and joined the throng as we enjoyed a gentle glide down the Baja coast. The ride was on.

All along the way, kids and local residents were out cheering and waving and the Mexican/Baja law were keeping the roads clear for our passage. The sun was just starting to burn through the morning overcast and things were starting to get warm. Little did I know how warm, but this is September just south of the border in Mexico.

I was riding well, as we turned inland from the coast, we passed the fields and moved through a lush valley, as the temperature rose, it was going to be hot. By this time I had lost Frosene, I did not know if she was ahead or way behind in the mob.

We made a sharp right turn and crossed a small bridge, and looming ahead was the dreaded hill, not an ordinary hill, but a 1500 foot climb up a twisty rural road to the top. This was the 'old road' the route used by the hardy folk who came to Baja before the construction of the toll road along the coast. The road twisted and turned, and I did a quick dance, as I rode through the mass of riders, many who had already gotten off the bikes and were walking and pushing their way up the hill.

This hill is deceptive, when you think you are about to crest, another grade reveals itself. I plodded on, still riding and weaving but by now the bulk of the crowd was behind me. Near the top I stopped at a refreshment station, where I sucked on fresh oranges and drank bottled water. I thought I'd seen the top, but was informed that ahead was another few miles of climbing. I returned to the ride.

I finally made the crest and rode for a while along a rolling plateau. That gave my body time to recover and time to look around, but no Frosene was seen. Then I saw the downhill ahead...

The ascent was a thrill ride, a rough asphalt road, a steep descent, no guard rails, with steep canyons wanting to swallow you at the slightest mistake. I was keeping my ride under control, keeping speeds under 40 miles per hour, as I navigated through the turns and to the valley below.

I made it to the bottom, and caught sight of Frosene, as we peddled along the coast road, past the shops and shanties, and into the big town of Ensenada. There was a party going on and we participated. I remember drinking the soft drink Squirt mixed with local tequila that came from a big plastic gas can served in little ceramic mugs. I didn't have much concern for what I might be ingesting, as I figured the tequila would kill and bugs that might have contaminated the containers.

Near the end of the day, we started looking in earnest for a ride back to our truck. Buses had been arranged to take the riders back and trucks would carry the bikes, but somehow we didn't get a bus seat and found ourselves riding in the back of a Mexican truck, a large diesel truck pulling a large trailer that was designed to haul cattle, driven by a driver with no fear, none, not one iota. This mad man drove this truck like he was insane. He took the old road, the same road we had taken to get to Ensenada, He passed on blind curves, he had no concern for oncoming cars, he was bigger, so they had to just give way. We huddled in the back, wondering if we were ever going to see another day. As he was driving as fast as he could, shortly we returned to Rosarita. We jumped from the back of the truck thankful we had survived.

Now, bikes in hand, we went for the truck. It was still there, looking forlorn and very much like a local truck, nothing stolen, nothing gone. I loaded the bikes, started the truck and we made our way north.

Crossing the border is always an adventure, and as we approached Tijuana it was dark. Navigating the streets after dark can be adventure, but having an extra set of eyes helped. Ah! Back in the US of A... where roads are safe and where you can drink the water.

We rode north, and found a motel to crash in, it was time for a hot shower and some clean sheets. We crashed about 9 p.m. with in a Days Inn ready to make the final drive home in the morning. Morning came, some quick breakfast, and a few hours later, we were back in Fullerton.

I went and did Rosarita Ensenada a few times, once solo and other times with groups. I also did a stint where I was the driver who shuttled the riders back from Ensenada. It was good times, good friends, and good memories.
This New York Times artlcle says so... so watch for this to be the first salvo in a war to cut 'entitlements' such as Medicare and Social Security.... am I, as a senior being overpaid... I don't think so. I paid into the system since I was 16 years old, and to top that, my good planning resulted in a 'penalty' of $359 a month reduction in my Social Security. I'm now living with a 41% reduction in my income.... and I'm still paying taxes.
I've had many opportunities in life, and when presented to me, I took them. I've had the misfortune to have had a few medical problems that also defined my life and made the journey a bit difficult at times. I've been blessed with the ability and opportunity to experience both sides of life, I've had a glimpse at the other side and it was good. Overall, I've lived in the present, and in the moment, taking every chance to get that rush that is discovering what life has to offer. I'm still living. Discovery is life, and I could be here without it. I remember....

Watching the sunrise from a mountain top, watching the moon rise over a silent desert, riding in a fishing boat on the stormy Atlantic, riding a motorcycle across Wyoming, sitting on the pit wall during a race, the smells, the sounds, the visual. Walking the Berlin Wall, walking in Amsterdam, riding on Mad Sunday on the Isle of Man. Driving the Autobahn at 125 mph... Seeing Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, meeting Ken Kesey, Tom Wolfe, and some others in Big Basin, times in Haight (1968), concerts in Golden Gate Park, Winterland, and the Filmore West, Monterey Pop. Places like Big Sur, Esalen, San Francisco, Berlin, Hollywood, Mammoth, Arcadia, Grand Canyon, Devils Tower, Mt Rushmore, Glacier National Park and Going to the Sun Highway. Driving Coast to Coast in four days, traveling by motorcycle in Europe, Monterey to Los Angeles in a bit over 4 hours, my '57 Chevy, my '57 Volkswagen, a BSA Lightning, a Honda 160, they all had a part. I have so many things in my brain, so much visual and sensory experiences, memories are good.
Night all (I know its morning)...







The blossoms are starting in the lower desert.... this was taken today near Borrego Springs...
There is a place in Washington that under the guise of religion serves as a 'boarding house' for 'christian' congressmen. Now there is a challenge from some real religious people who question if this house deserves a 501(c)3 exemption as a 'church'....

133 C Street has a poor reputation, and has been involved in a few scandals..
Seems that Vancouver has a hangover... the Olympics ran up a huge debt... is it worth it?

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