I had parked the bike at a motorcycle parking spot to go to the barber. James buzzed my hair shorter than usual, making me look about 15 years younger (I was actually carded for the first time in many years!). I get back to the bike, and the bag is flying up straight. I circle the bike trying to find out what happened, and a guy comes out of the store behind it. He tells me the bike flipped over, and that he and someone else lifted it back up.

At that point, I already assumed there had to be something wrong. Motorcycles usually don't fall off like that, and it takes quite a push to throw a 600 over. I circle once more, and just when I am about to decide everything is fine, there it is: the footrest broke in two. Fortunately the outer part is small, but it's really annoying that someone would cause that kind of problem and then simply run away.

Now I know why my insurance treated me to a $1000 estimate for yearly comprehensive!

When I jumped on the motorbike yesterday morning, I realized I had left the key in the ignition, with the lights turned on. As I twisted the key back and forth I had to witness how my once roaring bike had gone numb on me. There was no way to coax the purring engine into doing anything other than being a cold block of cast iron.

At least, I knew what it was... I left in my car to help Elizabeth move, returning some time in the late afternoon. Then it was time to get the starter cable and the instruction manual out. I would repair the battery myself. (Btw: did anyone notice how weird it sounds when someone files battery charges???)

I decided on a whim to ride down 280 instead of the more obvious choice, 101. It's a much more beautiful ride, but it entails a 15 minute rush through Menlo Park, which is book-ended by the two freeways.

It was a gorgeous day; maybe a little chilly, especially considering it is almost April. The sides of the freeway were that lush green that happens only for a few weeks every year, and no fog greeted me at the Half Moon Bay gap. Traffic was mostly light, getting congested only where three or more cars would go up a hill in parallel, slowing down everybody behind them.

This has no point other than reminding myself of just how beautiful that ride is - possibly one of the most beautiful freeway rides in the world.