Santa Cruz to King City

Today's ride was 105 miles. It was by far the longest ride I've ever done, and I think, if not for this communique, I would be off in dreamland.

We rode from Santa Cruz to King City, two towns likely never otherwise associated, if not for this sentence. Having done all my training out near Auberry Road and Millerton Lake in the Fresno area, I'd like to point out that I have become somewhat of an expert on a few things. And if you ride those roads, pat yourself on the back: you are right there with me.

First off, these two towns (and all those in between) know nothing of crappy road conditions. What a bunch of wimps! They have wide bike lanes (yes, ACTUAL BIKE LANES), clear and smooth, with only the occasional sprinkling of rocks. I think you would all agree with me that you are not a real cyclist until you brave Millerton Road, with its six inch "lane" while drunken gamblers roar past.

But hey-- why pave and clean up the shoulder when we could have a velodrome?

Second, I know road kill. I've smelled road kill. I've practically ridden over road kill. And this stuff here, sir, is no road kill. I saw a squirrel. I saw a racoon, but it was off in the bushes, and might have died of natural causes. And I saw a snake-- a whole snake that frankly looked as though it were merely stunned so I'm not even counting that.

Look, you want a second career? Become a furrier and travel Auberry Road.

Not so out here. Where are the coyotes, I wonder? The dogs, cats, foxes, frogs and rats? I'm used to the flattened petting zoo that is my usual ride, complete with a rigor mortis ostrich.

Finally, this weather... I'm leaving that one alone. Gift horse, et al.

One hundred five miles. Despite my "expertise," it wasn't until today that I felt like a real cyclist.