stuff.
I got some of the parts for the Bandit in the mail yesterday. There's a slight but non-zero chance that it might actually run again.

Justin couldn't make it, sadly, because his CBR is in a bazillion pieces awaiting a valve adjustment, and his BMW is currently eating its way through its fourth water pump in 20k miles. There's nothing OK about that. That there's a design problem, folks.

We all met out by the Danger parking lot: me and Ceej on our SVSs, Tony on his V-Strom, John (the guy who owns the Pegaso Taco) on his friend's Ducati Monster, ZZ on his Honda Magna, and Travis on his new Honda 919.

I led us away from the parking lot and almost immediately lost John and Ceej. The rest of us pulled over on a main street to wait for them (assuming that they'd gotten stuck at a light while turning onto said main street). After a few minutes, we realized that they'd probably gone another street down and were probably now actually in front of us. Just as we were about to head off again, we saw John riding on down towards us. We waited for him -- Ceej, he told us, had gone onto the next street. OK, no biggie, we all knew where we were going, and we'd just meet her up at Alice's.

So now we were five.

We kept on heading towards Highway 84 and the hills. Just as we got through Woodside and started up the hills on 84, we got stuck behind the World's Slowest Harley. At one point during the Harley-imposed slow and relaxing ride, I looked back and only saw three other headlights. Where was Tony? Who knows? I'd managed to lose yet another sweep.

So now we were four.

The Harley eventually pulled out into a driveway, letting us ride at a normal human speed for approximately 10 feet, before... The Hateful Cement Mixer. The Hateful Cement Mixer refused to use a turnout, and we all went seventeen miles an hour the entire way up 84. I wanted to die. About halfway here, I heard a loud rev behind me, and I looked over to see ZZ gunning it on his cute little Magna, passing me and The Hateful Cement Mixer across the double yellow on a turn. I heard him zoom off into the distance as John, Travis, and I stared longingly off after him.

So now we were three.

About eight years later, we made it to the top of the hill, still behind The Hateful Cement Mixer. We found Ceej, Tony, and ZZ ("the deserters") upon entering the parking lot. I'm still pretty unclear as to where the hell Tony lost us. We walked over to Alice's and ate burgers and garlic fries, yum yum.

There was a very drool-worthy new KTM Adventure parked near the restaurant. The owner, Barry, told us a story about being merged into by a Suburu. You can see the Suburu's tire mark on the KTM's rim. Somehow Barry managed to not only keep the bike upright, but also restrained himself from strangling the Suburu driver.

After lunch, sadly, we had to return to work. We took Highway 84 back down the hill; I rode in back this time, so that I could use my camera mount and take some pictures. It was a pretty nice ride back down -- some traffic, but at least there were no cement mixers this time.

All in all, it was a good ride. It's a nice group of people: no squids (well, OK, ZZ is our squid in training with his tie-dye sweatshirt and helmet from 1985), no wannabe racers, just good solid fun riders.