As promised yesterday, in this post, we rode our bicycles 5 miles into town to finish exploring today.
(Note: we are not cyclists. We ride our bikes on the right side of the road, we wear helmets, and we use turn signals, but any similarities to serious, or even knowledgeable bikers, end there. I am simply too nervous and uncoordinated to make anything other than a leisure activity out of it. You know what I hear in my head when I ride my bike? The theme music for Mrs. Gulch/Wicked Witch of the West from “The Wizard of Oz”. The whole time. Tim’s a better rider, and he knows how to fix a fair amount of bicycle-related stuff, but really, they’re just alternate forms of transportation for us.)
And now that you know that it takes every bit of focus I have just to stay upright and moving forward on the thing, you’ll understand why I was unable to juggle my phone into my hands and get a photo of Tim riding in front of me on our way home, when a cowboy came out of his driveway a little too quickly, and Tim spooked his horse.
That’s right.
Dude was on horseback, and horsie-poo apparently has bigger issues with bicycles than I do. It was a true “Wow are we ever in the country” moment.
Anyway, the north side of Castroville included antique store finds, more historic homes and wildflowers, a gourmet shop with free samples (!), and lunch at a locally owned restaurant.




Then I learned that full jars quadruple in weight on a 5-mile bike ride back home, uphill, in the Texas afternoon sunshine.
Next time? Either Tim wears the backpack or we stop and eat our stuff at the halfway point, because I’m pretty sure I came across as uncharitable when I shouted, with a mile still left to go, “Oh my god, how many fucking jars of salsa did we buy???”

Urp.
Tomorrow’s adventure: Golf for Tim, laundry for me. There will be no photo essay.