Sunday May 9: It was a picturesque morning in San Francisco. The pavement damp from the morning dew, low fast pacing clouds rolling in from the west, the sun beating down from the east. The only thing that wasn’t very picturesque was my left palm. It had bruised up pretty bad. No pain, but you wouldn’t think it just by looking at it.
Surprisingly my spirits were up and I was feeling pleasantly optimistic about the events that preceded. I told myself that moping over the crash wasn’t going to fix the scratches and make everything pretty again. The Daytona works, I work, throw the bags on the the Two Faced Triumph, and mount up. I’ve got a bridge to cross.
With my music playing in the helmet, I set my sights on the Golden Gate Bridge. As I rolled onto the 6 lane bridge, an overwhelming sense of excitement swept over me. The U2 play list kicked in on the iPod and bam…Beautiful Day. And it was, it was the start of a beautiful day.
Afraid of psyching myself out and the potential of worsening weather, I decided to stray from PCH and headed south along the CA 101. The big decision I had to make was if my trip was ready to end. Was I ready to go home? Not really. But where would I go? Would I be willing to go to Yosemite or Sequoia? A brief ride through a quick moving rain storm made my mind up. I’m done. All it took was a bit of heavy water to “rain in on my parade”.
A very typical May shower was rolling across central California. Very untypical for us Los Angelinos, who seem to never see a drop of water in their lifetime. So I sought refuge in the small town of Gilroy and immediately sought after a Starbucks. At times, I wish I had never gone into the Starbucks in Gilroy, for I had looked upon the most beautiful lady I had ever seen; in disguise as a barista. Call me rude for staring, but if you saw her for yourself you would understand (both man and woman alike). In typical Sven fashion, I remained quiet about my awestruckeness of the vivacious brunette. I admired her from afar as she rang up orders for the customers while I nursed my drink, ate my pastry, and lost myself as I contemplated the little diamond of beauty I found wrapped in the mundane monotony of everyday life.
I wrapped up my Mother’s Day at the bar of a restaurant in San Luis Obispo. Watching all the families and couples enjoy their meals, I made my phone call to my own mother who playfully berated me over the phone about the unsuspecting flowers that were delivered.
I was glad, sore, and tired that night. I was ready to go home.
Monday May 10: I wasted no time in packing and loading up the Daytona. I was on the road at first light and screaming down the CA 101 towards home. The first half of my day was pretty much lackluster. I did have my ego stroked at a rest stop when a Cal Trans worker came over and complimented me on my battered Triumph, “It still looks better than all those other bikes that all look the same.” I KNOW, RIGHT?!?! There was also a guy on a Yamaha R1 going the opposite direction who gave me a friendly notification that CHP was on patrol up ahead (the tapping of the top of the helmet).
Deciding to break the dull monotony of CA 101, I veered off towards Solvang. The quaint lil Danish tourist trap was surprisingly tasteful. Cross timbered houses and windmills, all that was missing were the wooden clogs; I’m sure they were there somewhere. The Santa Ynez valley was beautiful. Many of you Sideways fans will recognize this serene slice of Santa Barbara as the location centered around the film. For all you winos out there, it looks better in person since it is pleasantly complimented by the natural smells of the wineries.
Sven in Santa Ynez
Straying further from the CA 101, I took the 154, a pleasant mountain road along Lake Cachuma. 154 eventually spat me out at Santa Barbara, and I was back on CA 101. Well it was fun while it lasted.
Soon enough I was back in the familiar smog of the Los Angeles basin. The Mercedes, Lexus’ and BMWs dominating the highway. Everyone trying to stand out, but fitting in. Talk about an oxymoron. Snaking along the backside of Hollywood, I was searching for my exit. I had one last destination before I officially called my journey over.
The Godfather had explained to Bren and I that one of his most defining moments in motorcycling was riding his old Kawasaki along Mulholland Drive. I decided to give this a go. As iconic as Mulholland Drive is, I lamented the ride. The views were great, but the poor quality of road and the technical skill needed to ride on it was too much for exhausted Sven. I was too tired from a whole day of riding to actually attack the turns, but I gave it a whack just to say I did. And hey, it’s very Hollywood.
To close the day, I made my way to the Griffith Observatory. For a public park, the way up to the observatory was fun. Wide turns and a couple of switchbacks made for the icing on the cake on the way up to my finish line. As I rolled onto the parking lot and dropped the kickstand, a wave of accomplishment and relief rolled over, I made it home. The Los Angeles skyline to the southeast, the Hollywood Sign to the west of me, these landmarks I saw day in and day out never looked so good.
1076 miles in 4 days, Sven and his Triumph, alone, up the great Pacific Coast Highway. All the while I was exploring the better part of California, I took the time to explore myself. With all those hours alone on the Daytona and 90s Alternative Rock playing in my headset, I realized that the Sven I currently am, is the Sven I want to be.
Bren's helmet at the Golden Gate Bridge
About midway through my journey, I took the time to reflect on Bren’s unfortunate accident which psychologically grounded him from getting back on the saddle. The Bren and Sven universe obviously has changed, and understandably so. The heavy focus of motorcycling is now on my shoulders, but for the longest time it was the dream of Bren and Sven to race around exploring the world on two wheels. In an instant it was decimated. I deeply wished for him to be riding with me up PCH. In a way I felt he was. I had purchased Bren’s Shoei RF-1000 helmet from him and used it on the trip. His helmet still had the scars of his spill. So in some way, it seemed as if I brought a part of Bren on the voyage.
And at the Hollywood Sign
Although my journey could have been filled with so much more “tourism”, this adventure is my own, and will always have a special place in my life. A milestone. The scenery was magnificent and the monuments were awe inspiring, but it was the characters I met along the way that defined my trip. Mr BMW providing the brief break of solitude and sharing the love of motorcycling. Mr Hemp showing me that generosity and compassion can still exist in world of ever growing narcissistic smug. The Middle Eastern men who helped me drag my Triumph from a ditch when no others would. The Gilroy barista brightening a day full of dark rain clouds. I can’t leave out the bartenders, making sure my glasses stayed full of scotch and listening to my trials and tribulations of the trip. People like these, who I may never know by their real names or ever see again that re-instilled a lost sense that there are still good, hard working people amongst us in a world that seems to have lost itself in politics, greed, and empty materialism.
Keep the paint up and the rubber down. Ride safe. -Sven
Continue traveling with Sven up the California coast:
The Lonely Travels of the Lone Rider pt.1
The Lonely Travels of the Lone Rider pt.2
The Lonely Travels of the Lone Rider pt.3
