the labor day from HELL

Started out with a night in a skanky fleabag motel in Buttonwillow, CA. You haven’t heard of this town because the only attraction it boasts is a halfway decent racetrack. Not the sort of racetrack that makes any pro circuits, but a track nonetheless. I’d been having second thoughts about this track day, and was a little nervous, because my bike had been occasionally acting weird in a dangerous kinda way. While accelerating, occasionally it’d almost cut out, as if it were running out of gas. Scary and annoying on the street, potentially fatal to multiple riders on the track. Especially when you happen to be the slowest rider in the fast group, which means that in any given corner there could be a stack of bikes on your ass. So rather than risk it getting worse, I packed it in after two sessions. Happy to be getting an early start on the Labor Day traffic into town, I merrily turned onto I-5. Many miles later, well past the alternate routes, the sign said the grapevine was closed. Again. This happened last time. fucking smokers throwing their cigs out the window again, most likely. So I went to the truck stop and pulled out my computer, saw that CHP had re-opened it, but that traffic was moving slowly.

Rather than go 60+ miles out of my way, I took my chances with the traffic. Took 3 hours to make the remaining 90 miles to LA. Grrr. Tried to stay calm, didn’t do much yelling once I ate lunch and the red bull had finally worn off. As my mood swung from psychotic to suicidal, I just kept telling myself “It’s just the red bull, you will feel fine once it’s out of your system.” Then I dropped my iPod (for the 2nd time that day) and just as I got a grasp on it, deep under my seat…..BOOM! I hit the car in front of me. Dammit. Luckily I was only going about 2 mph when it happened, but it still scared me. So we exchanged information, I apologized profusely, took a picture of the dent in his bumper, unearthed the iPod and got back in line. The experience of sitting three hours, alone in a cage, surrounded by cages, is not one I ever want to experience again. Next time I’m riding to the track, like I did back in the day when I was living in NYC and renting a truck was not worth the hassle. And of course owning one was a ridiculous folly.

It was such a relief to finally make it home. As for the rest of the weekend, Saturday night was great, the guest DJ ComaR and the regulars Paul V and Party Ben played all my favorite mashups I never even knew existed. It was AWESOME! Drank Red Bull from a champagne fountain at Shannon’s birthday party before that, which was so fabulous. Sunday was chill and wonderful. If only I’d stayed home monday….