So I’m in La Jolla for a few days with the fam, helping mom & dad celebrate the big 5-0. I have too many awesome friends down here to not try and get something going, so I called everyone I know south of the Orange Curtain. Zina was the only one who could come out and play, and she really pulled through! Let me borrow her amazingly kick-ass light as a feather Monster SR1000, and we rode way out 94 down by the border. It was a lovely ride, no traffic, very few cops. Except for the border patrol trucks which were practically every other vehicle we saw. They didn’t care about us, but it kinda bothered me to see my tax dollars so hard at work on something I’d rather it not be spent on. I mean, sure, we can’t just have millions of people continue to pour into the country illegally, but why not make it legal and charge them income tax? I suspect the CA state budget would be much easier to balance with such an influx of cash.

Anyway, the ride was great and it felt like a nice taste of the next 4 months, because the landscape is a lot like Spain, and hey, lots of people speak Spanish around here. While savoring my delicious veggie breakfast burrito at the cool sportbiker roadhouse on 94, I complained to Zina that I’m going to a place where everyone speaks Spanish, but there’s not much in the way of Mexican food! Oh and the eye candy at this pit stop was stunning. While I’m sure to find great biker culture in Spain (duh), I cannot imagine seeing as many gorgeous men on gorgeous bikes as I saw here in San Diego. Maybe I should try to find a job at or near Camp Pendleton…