Ride the Methow- Part 1

I hope you appreciate the fact that I break up these stories for the attention span impaired.

Steve (my PBF) and I went over to Winthrop this past weekend to attend their annual cycling fest. I like to do long rides. I'm into it, but it's not my thing, per se. Well, it is Steve's thing. If I had a nickel for every time I've heard "I'm gonna be late cos I've got to get a bike ride in...."
Geek.

As you can tell by this pic, you can get your green card, you can even get naturalized, you can wear deodorant, but you'll always be a European at heart. What's this thing against matching clothes? Anyway.

Uneventful ride over. Four hours. We have a cozy cabin by lake a few miles out of town. It's cool. I get the single bed cos that's what I'm used to. He gets the double. There's a bunch of people there at the campground who race these miniature boats. People. They're the worst.

We get up late Friday. Have breakfast. Our waitress is a current or former meth addict (you can tell by the teeth.) We ride up to Mazama against a 100 mph headwind. Big fun. It's enough to earn a high calorie dinner at The Duck. Too tired for a movie or Patron.

Weak.