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September 16, 2003

Last weekend, I went down to Filoli Gardens to photograph the historical marker that's there. Hilarity ensued as I had to ask four different employees before one of them knew where to find the marker.

I finally found it, and went about harassing the tourists to take my picture. I finally made eye contact (their first mistake!) with a pair of blonde women. They seemed somewhat confused as to why I wanted my picture taken with the landmark, so I explained about the historical marker scavenger hunt as I dug out my entry badge and set down my tankbag and helmet.

The lady taking my picture continued to give me a funny look. She looked at my badge, my leathers, my helmet, and finally said, "do they make you wear that for your scavenger hunt?"

I had no idea how to even respond. I think I said, "huh? Um, no, I ride a motorcycle." She seemed very confused by this, despite the helmet and tankbag, so I thanked her, collected my badge and camera, and walked back to the SVS.

pacific rally!
This past weekend was the annual Wind Dancers Pacific Rally, which Steph and I co-chaired since we had so much free time. It actually ended up being a lot of fun.

Peter and I left Cupertino around 1pm on Friday afternoon. We took the freeways to Tracy, where we ate lunch at Wendy's and decided to hop on some secondary roads for the remainder of the trip.

We took Highway 120 to Oakdale. Drama ensued at our gas station stop when a woman tripped while leaving the convenience store and broke her wrist; the 911 brigade was just arriving as we pulled in. We loitered around for a while, drinking water and watching the events. We were eventually joined by a local man with one tooth who decided to regale us about his 50-year history in Oakdale and his opinions on female motorcyclists ("ooh, leather! I like kinky women!").

From Oakdale, we headed north on Highway 49 to Jackson, and then east on Highway 88 to Pine Grove. We made some frequent stops along the way for some more historical markers; Peter was in the lead for this leg of the trip, and he really got quite good at the obsessive-compulsive historical marker hunter's "oh shit, there's one" slam on the brakes. I'm so proud.

friday night.
Once we arrived at the Pine Acres Resort, Peter and I had just about enough time to sit down for 35 seconds before Stephanie and Tony whisked us away to dinner. My personality was at its sparkling and charming best as we rode to the new local casino and waited in line for about 14 days for the buffet. The food, when I finally got some, was excellent, though, and I was pretty happy by the time dinner was over.

The ride back to the motel was spectacular. Steph was leading us, then Tony, me, and Peter. It was a gorgeous night -- crisp and cool but not cold, and a full moon shone through the pine trees. The roads back to the motel were sweeping and devoid of other traffic. It was a very "full" feeling (and not just from the shrimp linguine, yum yum).

Most of the other rally attendees were around after dinner, so we hung out on the motel porch for a while, gossiping and talking about the next day's rides. Tony, Stephanie, Peter, and I were all sharing a motel room, so the poor boys had to go to bed early since we gals had to get up early. Unfortunately, it turned out that Steph, like me, gets giggly and chatty when she's tired, so we all just ended up staying up late making funny-at-the-time jokes and snorting whenever anyone would roll over. The mattresses were seemingly made of paper, and crinkled accordingly whenever anyone shifted a muscle.

Everyone assumed we'd giggle ourselves out and fall asleep shortly. Everyone was wrong. We did eventually stop giggling, but I don't think any of the four of us slept that night. I was just fidgety and restless; every time Peter moved at all (thereby causing The Hateful Bed Crinkle), I'd wake up. Every time the fan oscillated (click click click click......), I'd wake up. The next morning, it turned out that all four of us had had similar nights. We should have just 'fessed up at 3am and turned on the TV or something.

To be continued...