More Lazy Egging, San Francisco to LA. October 13 - November 1, 2015.

Another elaborate logistical dance of airplanes, friends, work, and borrowing Pete's bike was about to go down – you know, the regular drill now. By the end of it, I believe I'd be responsible for about 3/4 of the mileage on Endy2. I count myself extraordinarily fortunate to be able to get to know the Pacific Coast Highway so well. All in the name of working for a lazy egg... Or just a great excuse to visit friends in California!

Hello again, city. Pete picked me up at the airport as always, bike to plane to bike.

Reacquainted with Endymion 2!

On the list of things I wanted to take care of in town, Pete mentioned he knew a fantastic leather worker who could repair (read: replace) the pockets of my riding jacket that were ruined beyond my ability – to be expected after a couple years everyday use. It was a quick scoot to Johnson Leather on Polk, and they even gave me a loaner jacket while they worked on mine.

I felt like an extra on a biker movie set for the 3 days I borrowed this jacket.

Blogger Ivan of Scooter in the City caught up to me at Commonwealth.

With so many familiar faces, being back in the city was a bit like coming home. Between catching up with friends like Lisa and Ivan, getting a haircut, repairing things, going for a jog up to Fort Point (mm, sea spray stinging my eyes and nose, but what a view), and making steak with Pete, of course we had another dog park birthday party to attend. We didn't throw this one, or get everyone wasted by 5pm like last time.

Butt sniffin' chain.

Butt hat.

This is what I bring to the party.

Hi there, BMW with a nice rack. Nice looking seat, too.

Last day as Vespa easy rider, but I still have loaner spaceman helmet.
Thanks as always, Pete!

Face off at the shop for a few upgrades before Endy2's second 1000 mile roundtrip.

Montage: Installed Pete's sweet shorty levers, gel solo seat for trial, and Piaggio's media center thingy for shit and gigs.
Bonus, I got to keep the old levers to replace the one I bent in Lubec!

The best way to install and test the Sena SMH10R is over tacos with Marco and Pete.

Tearing up the outer edges of San Francisco with some Vespa folk: Pete, Marco, and Dale.

Of course, a visit to Devil's Teeth when picking up the Great Highway. Egg bowl is awesome.

The car next to us is setting up for hang gliding!

It must be amazing to hang in the air in a place like this. Riding is pretty good for now, like floating through scenery.

Remember the Cross Egypt Challenge gift certificate Matt won in raffle and gave me at Amerivespa (back in June)? It turned out I'd be working that weekend, so I passed it on to Pete. He was actually on his way to the airport a day before I headed south, and would return a day before I got back to SF – he'd be riding a rental across Egypt while I took his bike to LA, ha!

I managed to catch the Mrzyk & Moriceau exhibit, Everything Butt, at Ratio 3, before I left and the show ended.
I love their playfulness, simplicity, and whimsical eroticism. I first found their work through the music video for Look.

Hee hee.

Raina just moved to San Francisco, it was a happy chance to catch up with her for lunch at Green Chile Kitchen.
Long ago, I colored her best seller, Smile (see title page inside), and built her website.

Part of the reason for installing a Sena on Pete's helmet was because this time I had a riding buddy to LA! Moose is an LA native and much of his family is still there, so he makes the haul all the time...on his custom yellow GTV. He wouldn't be able to ride the return leg with me, but I was excited to share the road south.

Back the Vespa SF shop, Moose and I caught up with Mark before rolling out.

Killing me as ever, California.

Quiet pull off to hook my Sena to a spare battery pack. I'm not used to using an intercom, and forgot to charge it.

Stop for firewood, because Moose has plans.

In addition to being a GTV long haul rider, Moose is a food industry guy who recently got into cooking directly on fire. He wanted to see how much of his cook setup could travel by scoot. I'm only too happy to volunteer to be part of this test – free-camping off a quiet road with some jerky before crawling into my sleeping bag is one thing, but this is way tastier.

A campground mixup meant I had to ride solo back into town for cash for the site, but it gave Moose time to set up his picnic-table kitchen. The fire was well on its way by the time I returned.

I came back to some upbeat music, and Moose prepping by headlamp and water bottle cellphone flashlight.

Fire! Charring halved Vidalia onions, whole acorn squash, Cambodian sausage, and a big ol' slab o'meat.
Moose doesn't use tongs, just chef hands.

Scooters glisten patiently in the firelight.

I have never eaten so well at camp in my life. There's even a salad, with a simple lemon and olive oil dressing.
How will I get by when Moose goes back to SF...

Cerro Alto Campground in the morning.

For so many miles, my helmet was a private, intimate space for internal wanderings and introspection, where no one judges my music or singing. With the Sena installed, it was jarring at first to have Moose's disembodied voice booming what felt like directly into my thoughts. However, it was extremely useful to be able to discuss routes on the fly, suggest lunch break options, or to share stories on boring stretches. It was like chatting with your friend in a car on a road trip, but you're both on your own bikes.

Clearly, I'd been getting accustomed to the shared headspace when, along a quiet piece of desert, I heard Moose ahead of me go, "Gah!"

Not moments later, I saw the enormous desert spider. It was at least the size of my hand, languidly crawling leg over leg across the road. It might have stood halfway up to my floorboard. Naturally, I swerved to avoid it. And filled the intercom with the girliest screaming.

Whoops.

Sena (and maybe I) redeemed herself, after taking CA-154 to soar over Cold Spring Canyon Arch Bridge. I remembered John (jdgretz) led me along some smaller, squiggly roads in this region, so I kept an eye out. On the map, I noticed a road full of switchbacks leading into Santa Barbara coming up on our right. At the press of the button, I asked Moose his opinion on switchbacks, and said to slow for the next turn.

N San Marcos Road turned out to be a twisty, narrow, unpainted piece of pavement the drops you from Los Padres National Forest to sea level. There were no guard rails and no traffic, we passed only a few wealthy private residences that faced the sea. With no place to pull off and the crazily angled road demanding full attention as it spilled down the mountainside, I didn't take photos, but I promise you the view of Santa Barbara as you descend the mountain is fittingly phenomenal.

Also, speaking of lunch, Moose knew of a taco place in town!

La Super-Rica Taqueria in Santa Barbara, CA.

Super fast all handmade tortillas.

Tacos that could save the world.

Last time, Neptune's Net was closed off due to a landslide. Temps climbed as we approached LA, layers were packed away.

Sharing a fried sea-life snack with Moose.

But wait we're not done eating!

Once in LA, we met up with Moose's childhood friend and another GTS rider, Joe. The two of them were planning a Seattle trip, which meant Joe also had a Sena. We linked them up before riding to Shinsengumi in Torrance for yakitori dinner.

So, the voices in my head are multiplying.

Also, they're not always intelligible, which is how the keyword for, " Let's single file for lane sharing on the highway," became, "Tiramisu! Now!" Having intercoms for three riders had much the same chaos of herding cats, now given microphones. We made it with much hilarity, and they extended an invite for their Seattle trip. I can only imagine.

Moose is in charge of all things food. Just trust him, it's better that way.

This isn't even the beginning of the meat.

I think Moose was concerned for my wellbeing because this time Tigra and I would be staying with my manager, who is vegan. Actually, about half the team is vegan. No worries, I'll be digesting this meat for days, like a snake.

Seeing these bikes again! Mostly setting up on the first day.

Moose is in town one more night, so I met him in Koreatown after work. I love how immersive the plazas are.
He's clearly making a pre-emptive strike against veganism tonight.

Also against sobriety. Bohae Bokbunjajoo is sort of like a cordial.

Alright, time to work!

New swag to hand out.

Scooting under palm trees at Pan Pacific Park.

Making poses.

Tigra, Aisha, Damon, and I are making tacos at home tonight.

Aisha also works as a vegan personal chef. Not complaining.

Another day, another egg. Messing around taking photos with some fantastic murals around LA.

Seriously, this is the funnest job.

My coworkers make it awesome.

Vegan Mexican feast.

We donned the gear for a few night shots.

Jumping for Mariachi Plaza.

Mural hunting continued on my day off.

Down the street from Groundwork Coffee.

Blogging with coffee, almost caught up with daily drawings.

Tsujita Tsukemen Ramen has a process that involves lime.

With all this company, it felt fanciful that I found myself solo for dinner again. This being LA, my first thought was a ramen bar. Last time, this led me to fantastic spicy tonkatsu. This time, a Yelp search turned up Tsujita Tsukemen Ramen, something a bit different. The menu included instructions: Dip noodles into soup until 1/3 of noodles is eaten, squeeze lime over remaining noodles, and when noodles are finished you can add sour soup wari.

It'd never crossed my mind that lime and ramen could be friends.

Days off means laundry.

Also, riding to Anaheim to meet this guy again! He's trying his first kombucha here.
Paul and I met in Santa Fe and again in Colorado.

Making faces at the camera.

Versys and Vespa rides again!

Paul took me to the Ortega Highway.

Goofball.

I could do this forever.

Midweek on my day off I quietly turned 31, my second birthday on the road. I'd made plans to meet Paul, who had finished his moto trip after we parted ways in Colorado Springs and returned to Orange County. After a beautiful ride along the Ortega Highway, I crossed town again to catch John again for a pizza party with LA Bikers at Bas' place in Malibu. I rode 220 miles all over LA, some city, some mountain, listening to music in my helmet and spending time with friends old and new, to come back at the end of the day to FaceTime Fred from Aisha's air mattress.

A perfect way to ring in another circle around this sun.

Of course I get the unusual sausage at Wurstkuche, a short bridge hop from Aisha's.

Blogging from Intelligentsia at Silver Lake.

The Black Cat happy hour Cat Snack was tempting, but I went with clams in smoked oil.
Such elegant extended birthday treats.

Back to work, view from the support van today.

A Vespa broke down on the first day and had to be dropped off for repair at the dealer.
I'm hopping a ride in the van to pick up the repaired bike and rejoin the group.

Vespa Sherman Oaks. They found an electrical short in the body.

No one else was comfortable riding on their own to pick up the repaired bike from Sherman Oaks, so I had a sweet little solo ride through LA on a rogue Gudetama scooter. I joined up with the main group just in time for lunch at Lassens. Best job ever.

Hi again, guys.

The staff at Lassens all know us now. Best lunch spot for accommodating all our different diets.

Making like the eggs in the heat.

According to the warnings, LA was at risk of burning, flooding, and blowing away all on the same day. Not to be dramatic, or anything.

What is that sign I see in the distance...

Gudetama goes sightseeing. I'm feeling a bit proud of my fellow riders, I think they're enjoying the bikes.

Heard it existed, had to try it. I think it would be better when drunk, I want more flavorful sauce.

Packaging is cute though.

An old Beijing highschool classmate, Kathy, lived and LA now and had reached out with an invite to a house Halloween party. I met her and her friends at their home as they prepped and we caught up, and they even loaned me a costume.

Dork sided.

I applied false eyelashes on another person for the first time ever. Level up?

Mailman, mail order bride, Poison Ivy, and Riddler, ready to party.

The house party is expectedly over the top. A scuba diver appeared in the pool later in the night.

This face sums up everything about being at a Hollywood level costume party in a borrowed store-bought Vader outfit.

Thanks for the party invite, Kathy (on the right)!

There's something amazing about appearing at a party where I know no one, and have no intentions. Something liberating, something to the tune of I Give Zero Fucks. I'm not self-promoting or networking, which seems to be de facto in this entertainment town. I'm not a sexy version of anything or a clever twist on a standard; not seeking a hookup, nor to impress, which should be abundantly clear by the readymade oversized shirt under a leather jacket with a full mask. The whole effect is only amplified by alcohol, and no, I really don't know or care about most celebrities lives.

At one point, a partygoer was making the rounds, "Vote for the best costume! Who has the best costume! Vote for the best costume here!" Having no skin in this game I was trying to duck away, and found it a bit obnoxious when he still foisted a ballot upon me. I looked him straight in the eye, crumpled the piece of paper in my hand, and shoved it whole into my mouth.

I had a pretty good party.

Less fantastic morning. Got back around 4am.

We're all feeling a little rough towards the end of the gig.

Gude-break.

Big Gudetama fans in Little Tokyo.

Oh, little egg scoot is growing up, ready for first service.

Gudetama also hired lolita fashion models, who we linked up with for a photoshoot.

So much cuteness!

Handmade hair accessories. Cuteness overload.

They've never seen the bikes, and we've never seen them. Much curiousness.

We look like a dirty biker gang next to these pros.

Another activation complete, farewell until next time, egg team.

Goodnight, Gudetamas.

Check off another round of Gudetama, time to take Pete's bike back north!