37- been had

Space vato. Square cat. Say "car...am...ba, partners where's the party at?".



Enough is enough is enough. Thanks to the detailed series of photos in the last post, I was able to hunt and peck the location. (I did not know that park was there at all.)


As I was taking these photos and stinking of indolence and leisure, the Sand City Popo rolled up hard. Apparently the police station is on the other side of the park. That puts a damper on Fun.


As soon as the igpays had onegay, I headed up that promising trail. ooyahbay.


The traysure was buried deep. My 1st thought was "I hope these clumps I'm feeling aren't cat shit."


My 2nd thoughts were "Crap! Did they bury a phone book?"






But no, while that would make for an excellent Sleaze Otter prize, it was not a phone book.




It was a swanky simulated leather pannier full of Goodness! Whoa. This has to be the single finest cache ever.



Here's to a fine spot, well chosen. A hidden oasis of calm degeneracy amid the fluttering chaos of Modern America. I lorded it over the squares rushing past my poor man's Shangri La and they didn't even know it.



This was an especially welcome cache, too, because I was dilly dallying about with no plans to ride, and shaking my legs out after yesterday's cramp-inducing roundy round was a good call.




After all this pushing heavy bikes around, the cross bike felt like flying. Here it is at the top of that one spot near some indigenous Douglas Irises.





If you were sitting here and looked back up the trail, the second tall boy would be that glint in the bushes.

Just so you know.


I even made it home before the rain began in earnest.



The Goods: fancy mystery pannier+rain cover, 2 Tecate tall boys, a "modest" sized yellow cock ring, a politely phrased sticker of Truth, and the most hideously ridiculous pair of flip flops/leg warmers evar.

I'll try not to let this go to my head.