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By Liz Fajardo
transported back in time where the “summer moon above” was real, and
transported back in time where the “summer moon above” was real, and
life was carefree. My spirit had entered a new crossroads, reenergized
with the elements, with the elements, like the passing of summer to
winter, when the leaves change to vibrant red and the sun meditates
between a flaming ball of fire and a mellow yellow.
and a mellow yellow.
As I stepped off Rick's Harley in front of the Grill, we saw a smiling Manuel
ready to greet us. New applicant Jerry joined us shortly thereafter. Amid
the talk of bikes, Manuel's eyes lit up when he noticed my brand-new gold
pin--a gift from the Posse. Then we were on our way, Rick in the lead, to
parts unknown, far, far away.
Our leader brought us up 280 towards Woodside, nary a traffic jam in sight.
We exited off Canada Road, as I took in all the sights. There was the
Pioneer Hotel, an antique reminder of times past, on the left. To my right
enough the sign changed to Woodside Road and I could see the Little
Store Restaurant that had yummy hot chocolate—and the scene of our
largest coffee run. All the while we were sailing along, in tandem, one
right after the other, not a care in the world.
I closed my eyes momentarily, once we reached the tree-lined area near
Huddart Park, where majestic Redwoods mingled with Cedars and the
unmistakable scent of pines touched my senses, much like when I awoke
on Christmas morning. Only here the pine needles graced the earth
creating a giant carpet of green mesh, where more was better, and the
wind shared their secrets with all living creatures.
I found myself grinning as we pulled up to the San Gregorio General Store,
a pit-stop for our many rides, only today there were approximately three
motorcycle bikers, one princess and many 10-speed bikers, a la Lance
Armstrong and company-types. Captain Rick made a comment about their
delicate bright banana-yellow shorts attire, and we all had a laugh at their
expense. However, from one princess to another, they did seem to be in
rather good shape, but that's a whole other story. Jerry surprised us by
taking out his rather luxurious Nikon camera, with all the extras. Alas, the
battery was dead. Still, we all managed a smile just for his attempt. It was
a moment stuck in time, just like the perfect day with the perfect company.
Our last stop was just off the coast in Half Moon Bay on Main Street at a
coffee house that served us three hot chocolates (in clear old-fashioned
malt glasses) and a cup of mocha. All the hot brews were drowning in
whipped cream, reminding me that dessert that evening had to be 20
calories or less--not quite the Jenny Craig meal, but more precisely the
“you-better-say-no-to-everything-or-else” diet. Satisfied and ready to take
on the world, we hopped back on for the trip home. The sun seemed to
break through as we went up the hill to 92, saying good-bye to healthy
orange pumpkins and the promise of great harvests to come. Then were
the miniature Christmas trees, not quite ready for cutting, but handsome
and perfectly formed in large clumps, as if hiding tiny elves in between—
like the coastal labyrinth only minutes from this spot. I knew I would be
back soon, before Santa was ready to pack his sleigh.
I can see Jerry and Manuel's happy faces as they waved farewell, one by
one. We would all meet again, although this day was special, so sweet,
and so peaceful. You had to be there. It was a cozy scene, coasting back
on the freeway, once again remembering what it was like to be a teenager
and hum the words from "See You in September," without fear of
consequences, free to hope, knowing I had a purpose, knowing I was
loved, and knowing I would come home again.