Go West Young Man!

32 Days and 5,536 Miles On My Vintage Motorcycle

October 3rd

Justin and I get cheap hair cuts in LA. Somewhere after entering California I lost my tic-tac-toe silk scarf and am heartbroken. We pack up the bikes in a hurry, the first time for Justin. Luckily he inherited the pack Gord left behind; a good bag and blow up sleeping pad, neither of which he had. I was a little leary of his roughing it outlook, only because I had a killer rash, jock itch and a blistered spot on my face from a horrendous sun burn I got on my nose somewhere back in Oklahoma. I don't know how much more roughing it my frail body could handle!

Justy's bike is the '05 Triumph Bonneville Black.

Glendale to our backs, we get on the 101 at 5 p.m. Well shit. How did we leave this late in the day? A runaway hubcap almost kills me. We stop to stretch in Santa Barbara and walk through the crowds of wealthy, horny 30-somethings. At a grocery store Justin tries to talk me into shoplifting some fire wood. I'm too far from home for that kind of karma. Or at least any more than I've already built up in my short life.

Refugio State Beach offers ocean front camping and we're cold. Short day, but a good start. The campground is full but we ride through anyways, just hoping. We're flagged down at the group site by good folks who offer to let us camp on the outskirts of their site. Justin marvels. We agree; karma. After pitching the tent I shut up long enough to hear the ocean pummeling the beach and realize we're right on the water. I sit in the sand for a while under a full moon and am glad I came on this adventure.


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