Wednesday, September 21, 2011

1971 Unforgettable Trip

Okay, this trip did not take place in 1971.  Obviously.  I wasn't even born then.

It was two weeks ago.  "1971 Unforgettable Trip" is the name of the preset I used to edit all of these bike ride photos.  Just to mix it up a little.  Give our vacation a little vintage flare.

On Labor Day we met up with Ben's buddy Ryan in Hermosa Beach (how smart is he to live in southern california?  why don't we all?), rented bikes and rode six miles up the beach and six miles back.

Bobby loves bikes and helmets.  This day was literally a dream come true for him.  The look on his face below is one of pondering the gravity of what is transpiring.  And his hands on the chin strap have nothing to do with discomfort, he is simply feeling with his own hands to make sure the buckle is really real, like pinching himself to be sure he's not dreaming.  Seriously.

"I am so cool right now."

"Schu-eet" bikes (sorry my watermark covered part of the Schu-eet logo).

Bob loved his helmet so much that he insisted on wearing it to lunch.

Bobby chose the spot we stopped to play on the beach by freaking out and crying and insisting that he  needed to swim right that instant.  It wasn't a crowded spot, I'll give him that -- but I'm pretty sure the peace was due to the fact that we had planted ourselves directly between the oil rigs and the refinery.

Ben and Ryan swam.  Bob got his feet wet and decided that was enough.  I felt the same.  Even though it's so much warmer than our Atlantic, it was pretty darn chilly.  I know, I'm a wimp.  But someone had to supervise Bobby...

I buried Bob in the sand.  Couldn't resist myself.  He's old enough that I don't really feel that bad torturing him, yet so tiny that I was able to dig a hole big enough for him in five minutes flat.  Or less.  I didn't time myself.  I've included here the photo in which Bobby looks least miserable, so that one day I can convince him that he really didn't mind.  Which he did.  (Just kidding, Buddy -- you loved it!)

Fortunately we went straight to Ryan's place afterward, where I was able to rinse the sand out of Bob's crevices: no harm done.

Bob met a new friend there, too.  He's a great pal and was totally willing to share the joy of helmet-wearing with Gus.

Ryan is one of those cool people that will say, "Do you want me to take a picture of all of you?" to which I'll almost always say, "Sure!"

On the ride home the sun was nice and low so I got some cool shadow self-portraits too.

Bobby was barely able to keep his eyes open at this point, but somehow he held on.

We made it back to Hermosa just in time to return the bikes before the shop closed and just as the festival was ending.  Hence all the trash littered behind me below.  Or maybe it's always like that.  I wouldn't know.  Hennesse's Tavern is where we ate lunch on the roof earlier that day.  I've been looking forward to going back there ever since we went when I was pregnant with Bob... because drinking virgin beverages while the guys have the real thing gets old pretty quick, unless the bar you're at is on a roof by the ocean and you're being served fresh squeezed super pulpy delicious grapefruit juice.  Mmm soooo good.  I need to get me an old fashioned citrus juicer.

I snapped some pictures of some of the fabulous beach houses as we bicycled by (lucky I didn't bust a tooth because I'm rather out of practice)...

I think I could get used to some of those places.  Yeppers, I could.

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