Woke up in SF with a soccer ball in the pit of my stomach from nerves. E. calls it my PTA (pre-trip anxiety). I couldn’t blame it on a hangover (the boys were easy on me), but I I moved slowly through everything: packing, loading the bike, making small talk. We went to breakfast but I didn’t put down any food. Instead we burned through two hours of the morning that I would sorely miss in the afternoon (more on that later…).

To their credit, The Commander and GR kept me moving forward and in good cheer. They even went above and beyond the call of duty and shuttled me out of town and down the road some 40 miles! Talk about pilot-boat service! This post, and thanks, goes out to EB and GR; you guys sure do know how to do a send off.

BT