Psych

Psych

2-15-15

How many times do I have to re-learn this. Anything can happen, but it hardly ever does.

Friday I was practically paralyzed by the alarming guidebook description of the Harris Grade and the triskaidekaphrenic comments of a couple of wornout old codgers. Stupid! I mean, I COULD have had a massive coronary halfway up. I COULD have been smushed by a texting teenager in a Gorilla truck. I COULD have burst both lungs and/or squirted all my bodily fluids out my ears at once in the middle of an S-turn. But did I? Of course not! I scurried up that sucker in 30 minutes no sweat.

The last time I rode that grade I was about 40 years old and in the best shape of my life. Do I have any memory of the climb? Nope! It must have been easier then, but that was before the internet and way pre-Smartyphone and if I wrote any journal notes, they are long gone. So once again, I fell prey to a trailside psych job. But no worries, I may be forgetful and I am old, but I am still mighty.

Actually, everything worked out perfectly, as everything is prone to do. Yesterday I got to watch the NBA Saturday night special, showcasing my man Zach Levine's levitating rubber band man twisty pretzel yogi dunks and Steph Curry's record breaking 3-point shooting performance. And in a couple of hours I should be able to catch the NBA All Star game from Madison Square Garden. I'm a happy lad.

Some of you no doubt were busy spending your hard earned money on Valentine's Day hijinx. What I have to say about that is hahahahahaha, talk about a psych job! Hahahahahaha.

I could probably blast all the way to Santa Barbara tomorrow if I wanted to, but why would I hurry past all that beautiful beach? Most likely I'll hit the hot spring at Gaviota and enjoy a picnic sunset in camp before cruising in on Tuesday.

Peace, Love, and Everything,
Jim