Like Riding. A Ride Report in 2nd Person.

Start the day being dropped off, with the Fuji, at the marina. For 3 hours, pull wire, change engine oil, clean bilge, check hose clamps on cooling system, install remote for stereo, offload the beer bottles from last weekend (and realize that you may have found the source of Cap'n Ron's headache from last Sunday)…then lock up the boat, clip into the pedals and start north.

But the thing is, the best route north starts out going south to pick up Highway 2 across the river, then east to the far side of the valley, then north. 12 miles in and you are only as far north as you started 35 minutes ago.

You’ve done this much of the route with Cap’n Ron before, but when you hit Marysville you stay east and head up toward Arlington.

This is when you start to really notice the signs along the road:

Jesus Has Risen. Eternity? Where?

Help Wanted: Portable Toilet Technician.

Refuse Center Next Left.

Dump No Refuse.

Manure/Compost $10 a load.

Grandpa’s Fresh Oysters. Open Daily.

Pavement is Forever.

It’s Grandpa’s Oysters that get you. Fresh oysters in Arlington, purchased from the back of an old Chevy? You’re not so sure. And you like oysters. You really like oysters. Ask anyone, they’ll say you really like oysters.

Just before you head west on Highway 530 toward Silvana and Stanwood, the obligatory Ford F-150 pulls alongside you, slows to your speed (22 miles per hour, you notice) and does the little fake-out swerve trick like he’s going to run you off the road. After three or four of these moves, you reach out and bash the side of his truck with your water bottle, prompting the tiresome and predictable, “get off the road, asshole!”

“No,” you say. “You get off the road. I was here first.”

Your wannabe redneck then steps on the gas and you laugh as it lumbers down the road, imagining what that would look like in your own car.

The real fun comes when you catch up to F-150 driver at the stoplight. You’re stupid but not suicidal, so you stop next to his rear bumper rather than pull forward to his passenger window. People out here don’t shoot each other much, but just to be safe….

West now on Highway 530 into the teeth of a surprisingly strong westerly wind. It feels like 30 knots, you realize. A lesson in apparent wind speeds. It IS 30 knots. A 15 knot wind and 15 mph of speed.

Silvana, though, is where your thinking starts to fail you. Tired of the headwind, you just can’t stomach the thought of riding west out the river delta to Stanwood, straight into the breeze. So like an asshole, you turn left on a road that will shorten your distance by 5 miles or so. What have you done? You traded a long flat route into the wind for a short(er) hilly route. Duh. When given the choice next time, take the flat road.

As your Garmin beeps at you for passing the 40 mile mark you are on the last stretch to the house, past the lake that you will start swim training in next week. And you think as you ride past the little boat launch, “If I had to stop here and swim across this lake, I’d die. Truly die.”

And this is where you almost really die. You forgot about the Big Black Dog. This dog, one of these days, is going to get a size 10.5 Shimano right in his grill, if only you can get your foot out of the pedal in time…

Home. You find on the counter three new arrivals from Netflix that you put in your queue over a month ago. Among them is “Jack Johsnon: Live in Japan” which you immediately pop into the DVD player and watch as you update your blog. Not a bad day.

Before you fall asleep on the couch, the last thing you remember thinking is “Where should we go out for dinner? Because I’m not cooking anything.”