At 5:41 a.m. the darned backyard blue jay announced the beginning of the new day, but that was fine with me.
Into the walk-in and dressed, quietly through the bedroom and down to the kitchen. No one around but the two tail wagging goldens - Wally and Beaver - who had an appointment with the back yard Redwoods.
The coffee brewed while the bagel toasted, and the morning paper had no announcement of the end of the world - Plan A is in motion.
A fresh bottle of water, charged cell phone and the AAA card, a quick California duster wipe down and the garage door opens to reveal the rays of the early morning sunrise.
Neutral, line lock off, four point Simpsons fastened; let the Cleveland symphony begin.
6:24 a.m., first gear, clutch out, idle down the block and onto the expressway leading to 41. Temp is up to all we can get this early - 160 - when the onramp arrives and off on 41 up towards Yosemite we go. Ten miles out of town, west on 145 as the rolling foothills beckon more rpms; but the CHP loves this road and the Valentine doesn't catch the instant ons, as I found out leaving Pahrump - "I clocked you at 106, sir. License and registration, please."
Five miles, a right up to Lake Hensley and the fun begins. No one on the road - no one - and third gear at 80 through the turns and the dips brings 2511, and me, alive in the early morning chill. Past the poor souls whose idea of fun is dropping a string into a muddy lake, as the GTS Ansas echo off the canyon walls and the turns come quicker and become tighter. The occassional brief straight lets the speedo see the bottom of 80 as the 'slow to 35' turns are blitzed at double that 'recommendation'.
What's that? A roadside Corvette, owner doing his own California dust off after coming down from his lakeside home. Drop to second, let him hear what a real sports car sounds like and he'll never see me again.
The twisties keep coming and 2511 just soaks them up. Back at 41, sedately down the hill and wisely so as the Valentine beeps at the CHP ticketing the SUV. Off on Road 200, deserted wide smooth two lane and the legs stretch to 110 just in time to tap the Wilwoods and onto 211 for ten miles of downhill, tight, narrow twists, dips and blind corners.
145 again, this time east across the San Joaquin below the dam and onto the flatlands into Fresno. Slowly into town on the casino death road well stocked with radar and soon the first signal light on the edge of town. Six more miles, a right, a left and hit the garage door button. Backed in, shut down, unbuckled and home.
8:06 a.m., 96 miles. Donna has my favorite coffee cake ready, the bacon is almost done and a second cup of coffee is waiting.
Happy Father's Day to me.
Damn, life is good!
Larry
