Ok, 6 months have gone by since the last Rosarito-Ensenada
bike ride, and Tom is again knocking at my door. It's spring
time, and he wants to do it all over again. I bail. Too much
work. I've flown 100,000 miles in the last 4 months (no shit!)
and don't want to get on another plane if I can help it.
August rolls around, and Tom knocks on my door again. Work is
really getting me down, I'm trying to sell one shitty product,
and really need to get away.
Gupta has moved Tom to LA, and low and behold I'm able to
arrange another business trip to Orange County for the Friday
before the race.
After an unfruitful visit to So. CA Edison, Tom and I hop in a
rented Ford Explorer (free weekend rental, thanks to my frequent
Hertz rentals) and head on down to Mexico.
We pull up at The
Rosarito Beach Hotel and check in to our room. What an
improvement over the last year! Rosarito is definitely the place
to stay. We party it up that night at The Salty Dog.
The next morning we get to sleep until 8:00! What luxury! The
race is even bigger this year, with close to 10,000 participants.
We make a leisurely start.
So, I am grossly out of shape. By the time I come to the hill,
I am completely shagged. No, make that totally shagged. I just
can't do it. I get off my bike and begin to walk.
Like last year, I meet a woman on the hill, this one a rather
innocent looking young lady (as opposed to last year's pierced
wonder) and begin to strike up a conversation. It turns out that
she's a prison guard. So much for innocent (but she still looks
it!) We walk most of the way together, and begin looking for a
cab near the end. No such luck. How about one of the poop out
wagons much ballyhooed in the brochure? Nope, none come by
either.
We eventually finnish the race almost dead last. The sun is
starting to set, and the fiesta is almost over. She now claims to
need to meet her "boyfriend" (first mention there of)
and jams. I catch a bus back to Rosarito, and sleep the whole way
to the hotel.
After arriving back, and waking a snoring Tom, we head out to
Papas and Beer. Papas and Beer is a Rosarito tradition. It's an
outdoors bar complete with a volleyball court and climbing wall.
Tom and I wolf down some delicious tacos, and scope for chicks. I
strile up conversation with one, and Tom immediately engages her
friend in dialog. They both participated in the ride, and the one
I'm talking to exclaims "Boy, After that ride, I thought I
would never have an Orgasm again!... Until
now."
Buying signal! or so we thought. They work for Kon-Tiki
tours in LA. We continue to flirt until the wee hours of the
morning, and the girls disapear to the restroom. We quickly count
our blessings, and eagerly await their return. Which never
happens. Well, it's unlikly that anything productive could have
happened anyway, as my sorry ass hurt way too much.
We get up at noon, and load the Explorer for the trip back to
LA. Long ride, but we survive, already planning next years
activities.
The
Iron Butt Club |