Now That's What I Call Music Vol VI

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2 days to catch up on:

The Laughing Policeman

I forgot to mention this in the previous entry.  While I sat at the top of the sodding great hill between Solvang and Santa Barabara, worrying about how they were all doing in the heavy Sunday traffic, a car pulled up alongside.  The driver wound down her window and began berating me about the recklessness of allowing people to cycle on the road.  She asked me which idiot had planned the route so I introduced myself, then informed me that she had reported this crime against America to the police.  I am enormously proud to say that I remained calm and polite.

Sure enough, a few minutes later a California Highway Patrol cruiser turned up.  In the UK it takes the police about a week to investigate a murder but in the good old US of A the police are thicker than flies.  I was sort of expecting a bollocking but the officer couldn't have been nicer.  He confirmed our right to be on the road, said he would do what he could to keep an eye on the group and asked us to just be careful.  He performed a u-turn (which nearly caused the sort of accident he was so keen to avoid) and disappeared.  Soon after this a helicopter appeared in the skies overhead and we are pretty sure this was a police spotter just keeping a benevolent eye on us.

Fix You

As previously mentioned, Sunday night was spent in the cheapest hotel of the trip.  It showed.  The actual rooms were ok, though Motel 6 scientists have invented a special new fabric for sheets that is as thin as silk yet as scratchy as wool, and worked out how to package microdots of soap.  The motel was exceptionally convenient for the main US 101 highway, being built more or less on the hard shoulder, but consequently VERY noisy.

The local neighbourhood could be politely described as shite and there were plenty of unsavoury characters wandering around.  One of our group received a nocturnal visit from one of these characters, banging on his door and demanding to know if he had any 'gear' for sale.  

Burning Down The House

Yesterday we rode through Malibu where beachfront properties fetch many many millions of dollars.  Or rather they did until Jan 2025 when wildfires ravaged this stretch of coast.  The damage is weird....on the inland side of Highway 1 everything is ok but on the ocean side 90% of the houses have gone.  Here and there a lone survivor is now enjoying much airier views from their windows and an unlimited supply of charcoal.

Ain't Nobody Straight in LA

South of Malibu they joined the beach path that runs for most of the 20 miles from Santa Monica to Redonda Beach, bypassing much LA.  I parked up and found a particularly bohemian spot beside the path in Venice Beach to wait for them...until I realised I'm just way too pretty to escape the sort of attention I was getting.

Today is a rest day so the usual round of airport pick-ups, bike mending and chores for me this morning.  This afternoon I am being taken out by some local friends who I am hoping will make me drink beer!

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