Yesterday I wasn’t too enthused about riding. It was so windy. And I felt wasted. Plus, it was threatening to rain all afternoon. But, late afternoon, I got so antsy that I decided to just put on some casual clothes and ride my MTB around town. I do this every once in a while just to keep connected to the city. But, I do it in a lot of different cities.

There isn’t a better way to actually see a city than to do it on a bicycle. Riding the alleys, going places that you wouldn’t normally go, for sure not walking. I’m not sure why it seems so much safer on a bicycle, but riding a bicycle in a bad neighborhood of a big city, doesn’t seem dangerous at all.

I passed a couple guys on the bike path, below an underpass. I had been thinking about not being out at Sea Otter like I had planned. I like Monterrey and Carmel. Plus, I haven’t ridden those races for too long. I was thinking about the ride over to Carmel through Pebble Beach scenic drive and having coffee. It is wonderful. I was thinking how money allows people to have great memories.

But, after thinking about it for a little while, I don’t think money enables people to have better memories. Just different memories. I was remembering sitting out on a deck, in La Jolla, high above the cove, drinking wine. It was a very nice place and a great view. But, then there were those two guys sitting below the underpass in Topeka, drinking wine. They have memories too. Just different. Who am I to decide whose memories or what memories are important to other people. No one. My memories are just my memories. Not more or less important than anyone elses. Different for sure, but not better.

As we all get older, we all experience different stuff. I think that what we should all be striving for is to be doing things that make the best memories for each of us personally. It can be something that might approach mundane. You never know when that mundane activity will transform itself into a life memory.

I sure could use some personal bike racing memories soon.

This guy made a little shrine out of his boat in his backyard. That boat must of held some good memories for him.

The kitten, Fritz, isn't such a kitten anymore.

These guys, The Westboro Baptist Church people, create mainly bad memories. Fred Phelps is their spiritual leader. He bought 10 pianos, at one time, for my dad way back.