Even though Jason and I woke up early as planned, Father Time still had the upper hand as we headed out of our campsite in Lassen. After a brief but peaceful hike along Butte Lake, we departed as we had planned to take the 89 down through the center of the park.
Unfortunately we were stopped by construction and had to get to Sacramento in time for Jason’s work.
I was initially disappointed but then I remembered Parsa’s advice that I didn’t need to storm through everything like it’s Disneyland. So I decided to kick back and enjoy traveling in the comfort of Jason’s front seat. A Honda Fit feels very luxurious after days on a bike. You can move around more, put stuff wherever you want, lean the seat back. It’s really quite impressive what they’ve been able to come up with.
We continued our conversation until we got to Sacramento right as Jason needed to clock in. I hopped out of the car too with four hours to wander the city.
I ended up chilling at a cafe downtown for at least a couple hours, catching up on the blog, some texts, and some reading. Then I walked over to the state capitol. There were a number of people on the street nearby, a weird contrast to the extravagant building I was headed towards. I wondered if Newsom lived around here and how he felt interacting with the homeless every day. I looked it up, and - Marin County. Yeah I remember that place … much different. Never mind.
Jason picked me up and we rushed to his class that he was also going to be late for. I was really starting to feel like a busy lawyer.
He dropped me off on the side of the road as I’d told him I’d walk back to his place so he could save a few minutes.
I got a bunch of those prickly things in my shoes and meticulously pulled them out at a stoplight. Then I tightened up my pack and hiked to the townhome.
I feel very bad about this next part. Some time along the way I had decided that if the main door was locked and I was stuck outside I could always try the sliding glass door to the patio. I remembered that was usually unlocked.
The main door was locked of course, so I went ahead with my plan. For whatever reason I blanked and forgot the common courtesy of knocking before entering. For all I knew someone could be home.
And Parsa was home, lying shirtless on the couch. He asked why I didn’t knock. I was flustered and apologized and awkwardly went to go pack up. I still don’t know what kind of frenzy I was in to forget that someone might be in there already. Something about marching through a residential neighborhood with motorcycle pants and a backpack just makes you feel invincible I guess.
Back on the bike and back to San Francisco, just for one night this time. I stopped by Treasure Island for kicks, which was a weird ass place, then continued into the city, memorizing my route to the restaurant Rishi had suggested. My phone mount had broken and I didn’t yet trust my glue job.
I got dinner with the boys, went back to their apartment for beers, and we reminisced on the good old days at Georgia Tech. I talked with Rishi as long as I could stay awake, then went to sleep and slept well.
On Friday I woke up late but that was OK. I only needed to get to San Jose today.
And I still had time to make something of it. I hopped through the city streets over to the Sutro Heights park using my best guesses on roads to take. I was starting to feel more comfortable in this city, filtering alongside scooters and sneaking past traffic where possible. Me and a couple guys had a nice convoy going up Van Ness.
I got myself down to Half Moon Bay where I got lunch at a grocery store. I saw some guys around my age with their girlfriends all laughing and joking around and having a good time. They had a spark about them. I was starting to feel a bit bored here eating my sandwich in isolation.
Which is odd. I had just seen so many people, and I was going to stay with Tariq tonight. What more did I need? What was it I was looking for? One of the girlfriends, perhaps?
Maybe I was just upset I’d spent $12 on a chicken caesar wrap. In any case it was time to continue down to Santa Cruz.
Santa Cruz was cool, but Highway 9 up into Saratoga is it. My spirits returned as soon as I hit the first few turns. With 63 miles of joy to be had, I’m not surprised I saw several speed traps and several more fast cars along the way.
I picked up some Panda Express on my way to Tariq’s place and parked at the front of the shopping center. As I took my gloves off an older woman showed up to load some water bottles into the back seat of the car next to me. The vehicle looked like it was from the 90s and was piled high with stuff, most of which seemed like trash. Boxes, random products, orange peels on the dash, etc. She was either living out of it or did not have a great place to go.
I was surprised everything didn’t collapse out the back door when she opened it. It was all carefully arranged, it seemed. She closed the door and rubbed a small mark off the handle.
As she began to slowly wheel her cart back, I returned it for her to save her the trouble. She thanked me softly without looking at me. It was like she was just checked out and going through the motions.
At this point I felt bad that I was living off my vehicle for fun with the option to bail out at any time. It doesn’t feel right to treat this as entertainment when some people don’t have a way out. I’m still wrangling with this because I do enjoy camping and want to continue doing it in part because it is hard. I’ll have to think on this some more.
In the spirit of cashing in on some comfort, the good life, Tariq and I watched some YouTube videos while we ate our food and ice cream.
One of the videos we watched was a long montage on building a multi-million dollar home in Utah. It was very cool seeing all the processes. I told Tariq this would be in the top 100 videos we send out to aliens to explain our whole situation here.
Some Europeans had commented that the house looked like a piece of junk that’d been made from cardboard and sticks.
I’d never really thought of this before. Pessimistically you might look at this as a failure of capitalism, which has favored quick and cheap construction over craftsmanship and artistry. And because of that, our quality of living suffers.
But from another lens you might consider this an incredibly efficient way to build a home that meets its essential requirements, structural and otherwise. There are codes that we’ve agreed upon for acceptable standards of housing, and wood framing meets that.
And cheaper homes means more housing for everyone. (Cost of property in certain areas, like the ones I’ve been touring, may have something to say about this of course).
It reminds me of the great saying: “Anyone can build a bridge, but only an engineer can build one that barely stands.”
My excitement was replaced with tiredness as the night wore on and eventually I fell asleep within that cardboard abode.
Miles Ridden: 247
Total Miles: 2,298
Camp: Tariq’s House, San Jose, CA