Let’s say that I have been neglecting my bikes this year.  If my road bike were a truly a woman, she would have already maxed all the credit cards and run away with that suave, skinny, tanned bike mechanic that so lovingly tuned her last summer.  With the return of Daylight Savings time, it is time to rekindle the romance with my many two-wheeled mistresses.

My oldest friend, Herbert, was in Seattle celebrating the rain/spring break/grey skies for a week and we decided to go for a long bike ride while he was visiting.   We cruised down to the ferry dock near Lincoln Park and took a couple bikes over to Vashion Island for a circumnavigation tour of that dot of terra firma.  I rode my commuter bike and Herbert rode my 1979 disco-orange Volkscycle.  The night before we installed some retro fenders on the orange beauty (Arron’s Bike is the SHIT! – incredible customer service!), thinking we might get wet, but karma intervened and we had blue skies and warm sunshine for the whole trip.

After climbing a nasty hill leading from the ferry dock, we rode south along the less populated western side.  Vashion is dotted with small farms, quite roads, tall trees, and beach front cabins.  The abject poverty of some of the homes we passed was quite sad:  3000+ sq. soot cabin with 3-4 acres of green pasture behind, a dock extending out into the Sound with a handsome 30+ foot sail bot moored there, panted barn, new tractor, happy cows…  so sad…  😉

We stopped for lunch and beer at the Quartermaster Inn – yummy red pepper soup – and made it to Vashion Island Coffee Roasters just before they closed.  Coffee…  I bought a bag of my favorite Ecuadorian roast, and enjoyed a fine cup of joe, sitting on the bench outside watching the world go by.   Getting back on the bikes was difficult…  after a wet winter of cheating on my two wheel mistress with beer and snacks, my insensitivity to her was repaid by the butt-numbing pain inflected by my bike seat.  Holy crap!  Herbert was in worse shape as the plastic 1970’s plush saddle h was astride turned into a crotch mounted torture devise after 25 miles or so.

All together, we rode 46 miles, drank some good beer, ate yummy food, ingested way too much coffee, laughed about stupid things done as children, lovingly remembered friends that have passed, and made some memories.

Post Script:

We had planned to paddle a kayak over to Blake island the next day, but our butts decided that wasn’t going to happen.  Instead, we hobbled around for a couple of days like two old guys in search of a hemorrhoid pillow…