DIdn’t do much riding on Friday because I spent most of the day helping Ian with a plumbing project at his house. It’s been unusually hot in northern California the past few days, so we were forced to take a few beer breaks. But other than almost setting the house on fire, the day was pretty uneventful. And did I mention the whiskey shot at breakfast?
I finally set out about 5 pm. I don’t want to say that I’d taken a long break from riding today, but this was on the Triumph when I was preparing to leave:
This next leg of the trip involves driving the entirety of California Route 4, which extends eastward from the town of Hercules near Ian’s house in the East Bay, across the central valley through Stockton, and eventually up into the Sierra, almost reaching the Nevada state line. This evening I rode the most unremarkable part of the drive — the first portion to Stockton is primarily a congested freeway, and then is becomes a rural highway running through endless farmland.
As the sun set, I decided to hole up in Angels Camp. And if you saw my motel, you would agree with my choice of verb in that sentence. Saturday should be a much more interesting ride, with reports from the gold country.
DRINK OF THE DAY
I’m embarrassed to admit there was no Brew of the Day today. But as Ian and I ate breakfast on the back patio, I noticed an empty whisky bottle he was using as a vase or a decoration or something. When I asked about it, he said it was his favorite American whisky, and offered me a shot. I don’t remember the name of the stuff (which is always a sure sign of a great whisky). Don’t try this at home.
Chasing Phantoms 