Mr Pickles by Lyle Christie

Author:Lyle Christie [Christie, Lyle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781949386035
Published: 2014-11-03T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Over the Hill and Far Away

I DONNED MY helmet and gloves and, looking a bit like an alien, headed north to the end of Sausalito and soon merged onto the greatest stretch of bike path in Marin County. It was the former site of a train track but now was a pedestrian and bicycle super highway that traversed the lovely wetlands of Richardson Bay and connected Sausalito to Mill Valley. I made it just past the halfway point where the path angled northeast, and it put the wind at my back and made for a speedy run all the way to the activity hub of Mill Valley. This unusual area housed the dog park, skate park, community center, soccer fields, Middle School, and, oddly, what I called the shit factory. That was my lovely nickname for the local sewage plant, which was inexplicably located right in the middle of the afore mentioned entities. What city planner would place something so vile in the epicenter of all these community strongholds? It of course, made me wonder which came first, the shit factory or all the other shit.

From there, I made my way up the winding and quaint Sycamore Street, which was one of Mill Valley’s central veins of family dwellings and quite a sought after location because of its proximity to schools, parks, and grocery stores. Next, was the downtown, and its lovely brick covered central promenade was crowded with everyone from hippies and bicyclists to accountants, doctors, lawyers, and their smug children. Here, the masses mingled, talked, and sipped their fair trade coffee that had been conveniently purchased from one of the three cafes that existed within a fifty yard radius. It was actually a pretty quaint spot, and, with the holiday season coming into full swing and the trees around the square now decorated with Christmas lights, it was looking like the kind of place that Charles Dickens might have written about—had he lived about two hundred years later and been a millionaire.

Beyond downtown were the many lush valleys that resided around the base of Mount Tamalpais, and each had their own unique blend of greenery depending on their orientation to the sun. Cherry lived high up off of Cascade Drive, which was a winding road that ran along a creek, so it was thick with ferns and California’s ancient and lofty redwood trees. I eventually reached her street and turned left and ascended up the side of the valley and experienced my first real cardio of the day. Ten long minutes later, I was pushing my bike up the driveway to the garage, where one of the doors was open, and her bike was resting against the wall. I texted her that I had arrived, and she joined me a minute later dressed appropriately in tight fitting bike clothing, although she had opted for the shorter bike shorts, which was a decision I would agree with considering how well they displayed her lovely backside and long shapely legs.

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