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The Incalculable Joy of the Stupid Ride

One morning not long ago, I woke up in Santa Barbara to bright sun and blue skies. Somewhere, birds sang their mad songs. I drank a coffee on the couch. Suddenly, I realized. Today was the perfect day. It was the perfect day for a stupid ride. The best ideas always come from coffee. A stupid ride is too long, too far, too high, too much. There’s a good thing. Then there’s too much of a good thing. That’s a stupid ride.

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Sardines and Quesadillas

The trail tips up gently from the parking lot. It’s not a new trail to us, nor is it a challenge. It’s a bit of an old slipper-type trail. Comfortable, familiar: home. What’s different this time is the why. Before, it was a bike ride and a quick out-and-back. Sometimes just a walk/hike with adventure games like pirates on a fallen log or badger in the hollow of a toppled tree (at this point, he’s seven, and I just act like I’m a kid.) Today it’s a destination.

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