I remember a saying about picture having an impact on words. Is it that a picture speaks louder than words or that a thousand words create pictures in the mind? A picture is worth a thousand words? Maybe it’s better to have a picture in mind rather than two pictures in a bush. Which came first, the picture or the word(s)?
The ride today from Monterey to Mariposa was visually captivating. We rode through wine, cattle, and orchard country backdropped by golden hills and supplemented with miles and miles of 14 carat fields of grain. Motoring happily over the coastal hills into the mid-state flatlands we ate breakfast at the Cafe Rose in Hollister, CA. I asked the waitress how it was that some fact about Hollister pestered my memory. “Well” she said with a smile, “It might be because Hollister is the town first terrorized by motorcycle riders back in the day. Everybody was truly having fun but things got out of hand.” “I’ll say”, I didn’t say. This was the town of the event memorialized by the movie, “The Wild Ones”, starring Marlon Brando. Hollister is also the town that certain motorcycle clubs visited again to enhance the past memory; and I think I read that enhancement indeed took place and made the news throughout the land. The waitress gave me a flyer promoting, “The Hollister Rally; July 5th and 6th. The Birthplace of the American Biker!” Say, will this rally be sort of like Daytona Bike Week or the Sturgis Rally? “Honey, those events are Hollister wannabe’s!” DANG!!
The sidewinds started just outside Hollister and judging by the bent trees, helmet strap scab, and stiff neck I mark ’em at 30-40 mph constant velocity. The dust pulled up by farm tractors stung my face and went up my nose and I am high torque sneezing. I am tired and soft of mind. I know, I know…
I apologize for being shallow with words regarding my ride on Highway 1, the Pacific Coast Highway – El Camino Real. Riding the coast yesterday was a fine slice of Heaven and a tiny bit of the other place. The road and cliffs, vistas and bridges and twists and turns were a seven course meal for the senses; the Pacific Ocean with white capped depths and hues of blues was the main course. 50-70 mph gust’ added spice and fright. At one stop my bike was pulling off the kickstand.
Enjoy the pictures as they tell it better than I can.