I like getting out of Dodge, not least because of the Scenic Route which stretches for hundreds of miles in any direction. Never mind that my brother’s truck is just far enough from the ground that I barely miss falling on my face each time I get out. Or on my ass getting in. The likelihood of either happening increases proportionately to the amount of spectators available and so I am especially careful in, say, the parking lot at Raley's as opposed to the Bark Park type stops. But I digress. So far, my trips out have been spaced months apart, which makes the changing of the seasons more striking -- as in All Of A Sudden there are buds and lillies; or All Of A Sudden, the trees were weighted down with snow. Now I'm sure Vermonters would give a smug shrug to Northern California's fall colors, but they sure work for me. In Marin, there were basically two seasons – “Look at how green everything is” and “Look at how brown everything is.” Aside from the occasional clump of Lillies of the Valley and the rare hardy daffodil, the natural flora and fauna remained pretty much the same all year. (Vegetable gardens of course are more needy.) Riding with my bro is not an exercise in efficient travel between a and b but instead involve scenic tours of, for example, Cave Junction, Hilt and pretty much every strip mall in Medford. Ok, that last I could have done without but what the hell. Throw in some parks and a dog-friendly restaurant.
So far, I have not had the pleasure of being barfed on by a Boston Terrier.
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