typical trip to redding. *rolling eyes*

Sometimes when I fill up my gas tank I get adventurous.  I calculate how far I could go and where I would end up.
This happened on Friday.
On Thursday I stayed the night at Lester’s house because I didn’t have the girls and figured I would lounge on his couch and watch glorious television all day long and not think about the laundry that was piling up at my place because I am never there.
I woke up Friday morning and I needed to go somewhere.
The whole day was right there for me to take on.  This happened on Thursday morning as well, but that ended up with me packing up my running gear and heading up to Cool…which was cool. Yes, I know, that’s probably been used a million times before. suck it.

I ran home and got more clothes, none of which were normal clothes because I apparently I only wear clothes that can be worn during a hike, bike or run.   Because I usually only go riding with Lester, I tossed my biking pants aside and opted for my favorite running shorts and a tank top and shoved it in my already packed bag from last weekend’s bye-bye trip.

After the tank was full, I decided I would drive to Redding and see my sister and scare the shit out of my mom.

All the way to Redding I blared my music as loud as my poor car would allow and sang at the top of my lungs.  I thought about all the fun things we could do when I got there.  None of which included riding a bike for 12 and half miles without my biking shorts, but I digress.
My mom called me as I was pulling on to her street.  She was sweet as she recapped the last conversation she had with someone else and asked me what I was doing.  I wish I would have said something more on the lines of ‘deer hunting’ or ‘trying to find Jimmy Hoffa’, but in retrospect, she would have totally believed me if I did.  Instead I said, “Ohhhh, nothing” as I walked up behind her setting off her two dog personal security team.  Dasha and Mooshu went apeshit when they saw me and Mom came about 2 feet out of her recliner.
So much better than what I had envisioned in my mind.

My mom kept insisting that we call my sister. I kept telling her that wasn’t necessary that she could just be surprised when she got home, but mom was like a teenager that was afraid she was getting caught smuggling her boyfriend in while she baby sat and kept calling until Kathy picked up.

“why are youuuuuuu heeeerrrreee???” she asked. “something wrong with your hair? you and Lester get in fight?”
I realize I should probably come visit my family more often if they think the only time I visit is when my hair has reached root length long enough to pass as a cast member of Jersey Shore or I am in a verbal altercation with Lester.
“Because I love you and I wanted to hang out with you.”
She’s not buying it and eyes my hair for signs of a fucked up haircut and my eyes to see if I have been crying.
“No reallyyyyyy! I wanted to just hang out with you. I have to go home tomorrow though.”

This is when rapid fire planning comes into play.  “Okay, we could do this….” and she names off 30 things we could do in a short amount of time.
We settle on Dutch Brothers coffee on the way to get Chinese food from the airport and then a bike ride before I leave in the morning.  I got a six pack of beer and we went back to the house where I finished one and half and decided to call it a night.  Yes, my party days are SO over.

The next morning she came in, looking excited and that’s when I remember I had agreed to a bike ride on the river trail.  I put on my clothes and cursed at myself for not packing my biking shorts.   Can’t be so bad, i’m going to ride mom’s cruiser and it has a nice big seat!  How cute will I look on it too!?!
This happened to be the weekend of Kool April Nites in Redding and the place where we normally would park was now overrun by classic cars and people taking pictures in front of them to use as their Facebook default pictures, WHICH I am not buying because I know you drive a Pinto!
We parked at the mall and rode down to the real start of the trail.  This downhill wasn’t super steep, but it was enough to let me know that the brakes on my mother’s bike NEED TO BE REPLACED.  I kept reaching for my handbrake and it wasn’t there and I would cry a little bit.
My sister told me, “When you pass people, you need to say, “ON YOUR LEFT” real loud because they will get scared if you don’t.”
I’m sure that would have worked, but so did, “HOLY FUCK THIS THING HAS NO BRAKES, GET OUT MY WAY!”
I even apologized to people as I flew past them with wild eyes, “SORRY, NO BRAKES! THIS ISN’T MY BIKE! IT’S MY MOM’S BIKE!”  Which I am sure I have been been added to the contestants for “Daughter of the Year” for allowing my aging mother to ride a bike that has no brakes.

At the bottom of the hill my sister finally stopped and I would like to think she saw the, “I hate you and your stupid ideas!” look on my face.  She offered to switch me bikes which I didn’t even try to pretend wasn’t the best idea she had come up with all weekend.

I got on and tested the brakes and they worked.  That is all that mattered, until about 3 or 4 miles in when I realize that my ass has swallowed her bike seat.  I mean, not all the way because the two bones that made sure my children didn’t just fall out when I was pregnant were screaming, “YOU CAN NOT PUT THE CHILDREN BACK IN! YOU MUST KEEP THEM!”
I truly felt as if I was being violated by my sister’s bike seat.  I would stand up a bit and try to get my lady bits and lower body bones to stop aching, but as soon as I sat back down, there is was…a bike seat righhhhht up there.
When I caught up to my sister she was all smiles and showing me how if you stand up and bounce on the brakes you can get them to work.  The image of my my mother trying that tactic got my mind off my coochie.
“Kath…my pelvis bone hasn’t taken a beating like this since November of 2009. I need to take a break.”

The way back was a lot less painful, except that hill back up.  I decided that I wasn’t going to push the bike AT ALL up that hill and I didn’t.  I kept chanting, ‘if a 50 year old woman on a cruiser with no brakes can do it, I can too!”    All I could think of when I was riding it was, “I could run the fuck out of this hill…why do I keep riding a bike when I can run faster than I can ride a bike?” and then I remember I am the slowest runner in the world and the aching in my crotch will eventually go away.

I went to the gas station before leaving and got some water and trail mix for the ride home and that’s when I was reminded of where I grew up.
A woman in line in front of me was eyeballing my Merrell Mud Run shirt and ironically giving me the stink eye for wearing my “work out clothes” for a trip into the big city while she was wearing a pair of Saucy velour pants (I’m guessing that Saucy is the knock off of Juicy) and a T-shirt that had, what I would guess was her favorite monster truck airbrushed on the front.  I figured we were equals and just said, “Hi.”  She pursed her lips and reached into her purse to pull out her clear Ziplock bag of money out of her purse.  I had just been dismissed by a woman that still wore hair scrunchies, 1980’s Reboks and kept her money in a baggie.
This is when her crack pipe fell out of her purse and shattered on on the floor at her feet.  I was still wearing my Asics from the bike ride and hadn’t switched over to Vibrams that I normally wear and a good thing because I would have had crack pipe all up in my toes if I did!
She looked down in shock and I would think that the thought that was going through her head was, “Karma…that is what I get for being such a rude ass bitch to the woman wearing all work out gear behind me in line and being a tad bit too judgmental.  Perhaps she had just rode 12 and half miles with a bike seat shoved up her ass.  Maybe she was buying water because she was dehydrated and the trail mix because she can’t handle the candy crash she has 20 minutes after eating it.  Maybe she wasn’t trying to look like she was better than me and I am just a little too cracked out to notice that I am wearing my husband’s monster truck shirt that is covered with what I hope is Cap’n Crunch Berries and not cat litter.”
This, sadly probably wasn’t what she was thinking.  What she was probably thinking was, “FUCK, I JUST SHATTERED MY CRACK PIPE.  Poppy is going be pissed when I get home. Maybe I can hoof it over to the Beadman and pick up a new one. SHIT, no money, just spent it on this pack of smokes and a Diet Coke.”
She bends down and picks up what I am guessing is salvageable bits of crack from the floor and then tells the sales clerk to not cut himself on it when he cleans it up….and then WALKS THE FUCK RIGHT OUT…head held high.

I learned a lot this weekend.  1. Pack your cycling shorts no matter where you end up. 2. You don’t need a full set of teeth or shoes from this decade to pull of superiority.  3. Only virgins will get to see Unicorns. (I am still a little pissed about this, but the next time I am in the middle of an all night sex exploration trip I will shout out, “SO WORTH NOT SEEING UNICORNS!”