It has been an amazing weekend. Weather is finally acting like it’s summer. Yesterday I spent the day at the Midsummer Dream Festival and really enjoyed Karen Lovely’s band in the afternoon.
Today I went out and took a long motorcycle ride on some roads I’ve never been on before. I ended up stopping at this reservoir just outside of Azalea. There were a few boats out on the water and one family who was packing up their car as I was arriving to fill up my water bottle. I’m not a fan of reservoirs. I was getting back on the bike and this old guy yelled at me and asked me if I needed any water. (?) No, dude. You just saw me fill up at the tap. Then he had to come over and talk to me. It’s always those guys with the dried white spittle in the corner of their mouths that come over and say inane things to me when I’m on the bike. “Are you by yourself?” he asked. Mind you, there is absolutely no one around.
“Uh, yeah. Today, I am.”
“My wife doesn’t approve of motorcycles,” he informs me. “Her friend was badly injured on one.”
Randomly equivocal. “Well, it’s in my blood,” I said as I picked up my helmet.
He asked me where I rode from and when I told him he acted like I’d ridden from Sri Lanka. He then told me he lived in Medford and his son and family were visiting from Pennsylvania. All I could think of was of all the beautiful places to have a picnic with out-of-towners, why on earth would he choose this nondescript reservoir? To each his own.
I ended up back on I-5, got off at Wolf Creek and followed the Lower Wolf Creek to the Lower Graves Creek and then onto Merlin-Galice Rd. I stopped at the Galice “Resort” because they had a nice patio on the river and I thought I’d get a refreshment and sit by the water. I walked in and stood there for 10 minutes waiting for someone to acknowledge me or say, “Can I help you?” or even “Piss off,” but no one did. The presumed hostess was too busy chatting with some guy about high school baseball. I spotted another young woman behind the counter. Of course she was going to say something. Instead, she looked right through me and began chatting up some guy who was sitting at the counter. Screw this. I walked out. I doubt they even noticed. Whenever I walk out of a place, I envision that someone will chase me down, apologize profusely and offer me a complimentary meal. Never happens.