Bite-Sized: Week of July 3, 2023
Borrego Springs, Indiana Jones and Toluca Lake.
It’s Monday morning, and although I’ve been home from my San Diego road trip since 8:45 p.m. Saturday, the lingering effects of piling on 1,266 miles in five days has my head in a fog. Part of it stems from the summer heat we’ve had in the Bay Area, but plenty comes from a brain full of memories from time spent with friends old and new.
San Diego & Borrego Springs
Admittedly, we’re supremely spoiled with our California terrain, climate and roads to ride. I’ll never take it for granted that being a motorcyclist and bicyclist in the Bay Area is a gift. I take advantage of it nearly every day of the year, which has proven to be excellent training for riding elsewhere in all kinds of weather. It also helps that lane-splitting is legal for riders in California, where backed-up traffic can stymie a great ride, especially in the summer heat.
It’s been exactly two years since our friends Noel and Sylvie relocated to San Diego from Mountain View, and that long since Noel and I have ridden together. One condition of my visit last week was to share a ride, and we enjoyed a nice roll on CA-8 East to Lake Cuyamaca, just south of Julian on Route 79. Two Frenchies on Italian machinery, with Noel’s son Tom driving black Labrador Sangria in the family Mini Cooper to join us for lunch on the terrace at The Pub. It felt good to stretch my legs after my 500-mile ride into town two days prior.
Tom’s Husqvarna 401 was in the local shop with a battery issue, so he called to check on its status. I also needed some hot-weather riding gloves, so we all piled into the Mini to see Paul and the gang at GP Motorcycles on India Street. The Husky was ready, and the next day Tom and I enjoyed a hot, twisty 150-mile adventure to Borrego Springs, where we stopped for lunch at Carlee’s and some air conditioning to escape the 108-degree temperature.
Route 78 East through Banner and along the San Felipe Creek was flowy and fun, our reward for getting stuck in summer construction traffic on CA-8 earlier. Yaqui Pass Road dropped us into Borrego Springs, and after lunch we followed Montezuma Valley Road over the mountains into Ranchita, where we turned south to Santa Ysabel on Route 79, heading west on 78 through Ramona, then south on 67 to CA-8 West and home.
Indiana Jones
Forty-two years ago in late June, my high school pal Duffy Malooly and I watched Raiders of the Lost Ark in theaters on opening night. Smitten by the action, we went back to see it again the next day, and I’ve been an Indiana Jones fan ever since. Noel has worked for several visual effects companies – including Industrial Light & Magic – so it made sense to see Indian Jones and the Dial of Destiny on opening night together while I was in town.
First, Harrison Ford still has the gusto to play Indy. Second, the storyline made my 57-year-old fanboy self pay attention to the screen. And third, the chase scenes were entertaining, enjoyable, and included several motorcycles throughout the movie.
I won’t give anything away from the plot, but nostalgia struck me hard. My eyes were enjoying a visual feast, but my mind was racing with memories of everything I’ve done on two wheels since 1982.
Toluca Lake
I departed San Diego and Noel’s genteel hospitality on Saturday morning at 8 a.m., with my wheels pointed to Toluca Lake near Burbank to meet Zahn McClarnon for coffee. Arriving an hour early to beat the holiday traffic, I backed into my parking spot on the curb outside Priscilla’s Coffee and was greeted by 86-year-old Robert, enjoying an iced coffee while sitting in his white plastic chair under the red umbrella.
“You parked that machine supremely,” he said as I removed my helmet and ear plugs. “I haven’t ridden a motorcycle in 50 years, but I fondly remember the engine’s purr,” he said with a voice and physical demeanor not unlike the character Sy Ableman in the Coen Brothers’ movie A Serious Man.
Robert and I spoke for 45 minutes, and it was a joy to be invited to share his table. He was on his way home to do the laundry, something usually handled by his housekeeper, but his engaging storytelling led from one fascinating anecdote to another. I found out he’ll be celebrating his 40th wedding anniversary a week before I celebrate my 34th. I also found out he was in “the industry”, and despite his age and pseudo retirement, still dips back in now and then. And judging by the ‘how ya doin’, Robert?’ that he received from passers-by, he’s a regular at Priscilla’s, set on a wedged corner across from Big Boy on West Riverside Drive and North Evergreen Street.
Zahn rolled up on his lowered Harley hardtail a few minutes after 11 a.m. He asked me if I’d like something to drink, and I said a hot Americano, my new favorite drink after having Noel make me at least two a day in San Diego.
Zahn and I hadn’t seen each other since early August 2018, so it was good to catch up. We talked about the Hollywood scene, which projects he enjoys more than others, how easy and natural it is to network in Los Angeles (“Zahn! God I love Reservation Dogs!” Ron Howard said at a party recently), if he’s seen The Old Man TV series with Jeff Bridges (“Not yet. I’ve heard good things…) or met Bridges (“A few years ago in Austin. I introduced myself and Mr. Bridges goes ‘I know you! I know you! You were amazing as Hanzee Dent in Fargo, man!’ which made me happy. I’m a big Jeff Bridges fan.”).
What began as a planned one hour meeting for coffee on my way home to the Bay Area turned out to be 2-½ hours of more motorcycle than Hollywood talk. Zahn asked what my plans were for the summer and I mentioned our August trip to Europe for our first guided motorcycle tour of several countries, which really piqued his interest. Like me, he’s considered touring Europe but the details and planning can be overwhelming. That, and combined with a heavy production and promotional schedule that limits his free time lately. He did mention a plan to rent a BMW R 1250 GS to experience the redwoods and cooler coastal climate in northern California soon, schedule permitting.
As the midday sun rose and increased its intensity, we said our ‘until next times’ and he rode home five minutes away while I mounted my Quota and faced six hours of construction traffic, extreme heat, extreme beauty, a steady hum of the motor and tires scrubbing the pavement, and an itch to get home before dark to see my family and share the highlights of my trip. Jean was waiting with the garage door and her arms open, the loveliest of receptions as the orange sun set over the Santa Cruz mountains.
The day after I got home, Zahn and I exchanged some texts about motorcycle trips. He’s a private man, and mentioned repeatedly that his greatest joy comes from being on a motorcycle. I’m never surprised that the lure of riding and talking to strangers when traveling by motorcycle continues to hold such a fascination for people.
Get out there and get some.
This road trip served you well. Great lil read!!
I can only imagine how rich it must be to experience America on a bike -- the very epitome of freedom and independence.