Nature’s ok, I guess, but it’s no Disneyland. Sure, both have a Matterhorn, but only on the top of one can you to see all Anaheim and the distant land of Fullerton. Hark! Buena Park!
I’ve found nature isn’t so – well, boring – when you zoom by the natural stuff. That’s why I got my mountain bike. If god had meant us to hike, why did Goodrich make tires? To be honest, it’s usually not much of a zoom on the way up, that’s more of a front-wheel wiggle and stop, but I make up for it on the way down. Either way it scares the shit out of the bipeds -- still, even that gets old after awhile.
So, as I usually wiggle up Altadena’s Echo Mountain and zoom back down again, I wondered – what’s missing around here? Why does this joint feel as disappointing as the last revolution on the teacup ride? Where’s our Pleasure Island? Then it hit me, hit me as hard as the time I got drunk and tried to stand up in Space Mountain: Where’s the bike toss? The bike limbo? Where the hell are the kiosks and pancakes?
What’s missing? Nothing that a megaphone, a raffle, vendors, and a dozen corporate bike sponsors can’t fix.
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This is a sanctuary.
This is a carnival.
This is my brain on drugs. Because this can't be for real.
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