Day 1: Los Angeles to Joshua Tree (193 miles)
Tuesday morning, we were finally, finally (almost) ready to actually start our trek! While Clo figured out all the bells and whistles and secret compartments on her new BMW, I swapped the wheels, then set off to FedEx to ship home the old wheel along with the bonus parts for my other Futura.
We got the bikes loaded up and hit the road!
First, a few local stops in LA. We met up with Jess again, this time on the UCLA campus for lunch, then had some fantastic coffee with Lev at Coffee Commissary, but not before yet another Harbor Freight stop (returning some extra tools from the previous day, and buying batteries and a couple of Torx bits we needed for installing Clo’s phone mount). From there, we made a quick stop at Boomer’s house to pick up the tail bag he had forgotten to give to Clo when she picked up the bike, then a visit to the Laguna Heights Cycle Gear, where I tried (unsuccessfully) to return my improperly-sized oil filter and bought some touchscreen-compatible fingertips to attach to my heated gloves; I had accidentally brought my older pair that didn’t work with the phone.
From there, on to Joshua Tree, our first (and ultimately, only) camping night of the trip. We got into the park super late, so we rode as slowly and quietly as we could toward our campground as the road gradually went from paved, to gravel, to soft sand. We were two sites from ours when Clo — slight of frame and still getting used to her massive 1200cc ride — slipped and dropped her bike in the sand. I yelled back to her to ask if she was OK (totally fine, only a mild ego bruise), then ran over to help her pick it up. At this point, a friendly camper (let’s call her Karen) came out to ask if we were all right. Once we reassured her that we weren’t hurt, something flipped in her and she launched into a tirade: “DO YOU KNOW THAT IT’S MIDNIGHT? PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP HERE! IN TENTS!” We both resisted the urge to engage with her (remembering the adage: never argue with crazy!) and instead apologized and wished her a good night. Apparently even my “have a good night” was too loud for her, because she snapped back at us for talking too loudly before storming back off to her tent.
We got our bikes over to the campsite, quietly set up our tents, and then enjoyed a nightcap of Bulleit bourbon while talking in hushed voices laughing about the crabby camper two sites over. The kicker was about half an hour later, when we heard a series of car alarms going off. We giggled — quietly — at the thought of Karen marching down to the park ranger’s office to complain about the alarms. One more sip of bourbon and then we made our way into our tents to sleep under the stars.
