[CR]I'm trying, really/ Dinner in India?

(Example: Events)

Date: Thu, 30 Jan 2003 22:42:54 -0800
From: "Brian Baylis" <rocklube@adnc.com>
To: classicrendezvous@bikelist.org
Subject: [CR]I'm trying, really/ Dinner in India?

Dear Listmembers,

A little bedtime story for all of the boys and girls of the CR list.

Before I give an account of an evening with the Grand Pubah and John Pergolizzi and Sally that rivals Mr. Toads' Wild Ride at Disneyland; I need to apologize to a whole bunch of people on the list from whom I have recieved private email on numerous topics that I have not responded to yet. I know of one that is easily half a year overdue to Ben Kamen (Me? A rock star?), one from Robbie Fellows( What ever happened to the chrome donut?), Scott Davis (the hardness of any given brass alloy is determined by heat treating, generally there are three hardnesses), Dennis Young (I will discuss the matter you inquired about for your friend in Japan), etc. etc. Time to write is short. Need to keep getting work done. And yet I am "called upon" to call the play by play of our special gatherings and so on. I really love doing it; the process is pretty much like using my fingers as a mouth! (Odd visual comes to mind. Oh no, the horrible impression burned into my tiny little brain! Nightmares tonight.) So to those who have sent me nice compliments or have inquired about frames and everything else under the sun; I actually am trying to sweep up!

The wild ride actually began as soon as Dale left my driveway. From the outset my mouth was running a mile a minute as Dale and I engaged in typical bike related jibberish. I'm navigating which is something I best not do while talking. Every turn is in danger of being passed. The wild ride ensues as Dale periodically has to dive over a lane or two because I suddenly realize the turn is upon us. I live here, you'd think I'd know where I'm going. Fact is I'm part hermit and I don't get around town all that much. Case in point. We're 5 mins. away from Johns' place when a call comes in over the cell. "We're just about there" Dale says as we are at that very moment sailing past the exit towards La Jolla at Ardath Rd. My mind reengages just in time to look up and see the exit that goes east instead of west. I tell Dale there is no exit west forthcomming and then remember "Oh yeah, there is no exit off of 5 North to Ardath Rd. west". So we U-turn at the next exit and head back to catch Ardath Rd. west from I-5 south. We get to the exit and it only goes EAST! CRAP!! OK, go down to the next exit and hang another U-turn and FINALLY head west over the hill that drops into La Jolla. We're good. Now all we have to do is find John and Sally. No problem; drive directly thru the heart of La Jolla (where every 5 feet is a store that sells antiques, artwork, and Oriental Rugs by the thousands. Just past the Art museum and here we are! OK, made it. WE hook up with Ralph and Alice (the Honeymooners) and Awaaaaaaay we goooooooo! We set out on foot to find an Indian Food resturaunt that is "around here somewhere". Armed with a map, a compass, and one hungry lady we pound the pavement down Prospect and then rt on Giuard. WOW, look at all of the pretty carpets. Jeepers, what beautiful elepnants cast in bronze, paintings of flowers, abstract renderings in acrylic plastic of naked ladies, etc. Any one of these things is probably worth more than my house! It must be nice to be rich; all there pretty things to buy! Sigh!

I'm completely absorbed by all of the shiny objects so I don't really notice that we are still floundering a little bit, slightly uncertain that we are heading in the right direction. Suddenly Sally proclaims "Oh, I know where we are now!" And sure enough about a half a block up is the food we seek. Since I'm amongst a group of people with some class I sort of take the role of puppy dog and just follow along and soak it all in. I want to take a leak by a tree just as we are about to go in and Sally has to give my collar a good solid jerk. We step into the establishment and first take a quick glance around and immediately register that we are in a very nice Indian eatery. John requests a look at the menu at the desk and then presents it to Dale who can translate Indian food menus into English (ie. explain what this is and that is and more importantly HOW HOT it is). Sally needs to not eat hot food whereas Dale could probably pour a bucket of hot coals down his gullit and not even feel it! Cast iron stomach, I guess. I don't do HOT either and I eat like a parakeet. NO. I know it looks like one, but that's my nose, NOT a beak. Yeah, really classy joint; looks like a real nice place for a man to have himself a nice bowl of lentil soup. So I did. The others ate a bit more hartily than I and the food was great. The company was great. Unbelieveably we spoke nothing of bicycles the entire evening after we first arrived and checked out Ralph and Alices' Eisencarp and Riverwhale. From then on we told jokes, related stories, learned a lot more about John and Sally (most facinating, both of them) and generally had a very pleasant evening.

Break for rehersal........

Later that night.........

So anyway, we close the place down. Everyone except the staff has departed but we continue to BS and whatnot until 11pm. The joint closes at 10:30. During the evening the obviously Indian employees and other guests are carrying on in ways that catch our attention periodically. In the booth adjacent to ours sits a solo beautiful exotic woman. At the end of the evening a group of "insiders" that has been upstairs in this lavishly decorated, yet tasteful and simple building come down to the serving floor. They must have been drinking a little bit of whatever Indians drink because they seemed to be very happy. Just before the exotic woman left "Mr. Happy" in the group arranges to meet this woman tomorrow. As she is leaving Sally notices how he sort of clumsily mauls this lady with one of those stupid grins on his mug and a sort of "bug eye" look. A little while later we decide to break up the party and as we rise they come over to us as we apologize for keeping them so late. Suddenly like a piranha Mr. Happy is practically playing tonsil hockey with Sally. Pergolizzi nearly has to crack this guys' family jewels over his knee to get this baboon who has lips like a perch from treating Sallys' tongue like bait. We're all like, let's get the heck outta here! So we depart after John has pulled the slickest "I'll get the check" move I've ever seen. It was obvious the move was a new one on Dale because John dogged him before he even got to lay a hand on the fancy leather pouch you give the server. Anyhow, the food was very good, the atmosphere was wounderful; even the Indian music that sounds like someone is strangeling a cat was strangely in tune. The propriator was deffinately not Sallys' type. The conversation was delightful and devoid of bike talk. Right after we left the resturaunt Dale stops suddenly dead in his tracks. It looks like he's got a game of pocket pool going when actually he's grasping desperately in his pockets for the keys to the rental car. He blurts out " Damn, where are the car keys?" with that twisted look on his face. Quickly back to the resturaunt to make sure they didn't fall out of his pocket in the booth or something. Sally says "Ain't no way in hell I'm going back in there!" Dale soon comes out, no luck. OK, maybe they are back at Johns' place somehow. Yeah, right. We continue our pleasant walk back thru downtown La Jolla and we talk in pairs. John and I are finally reaching outer space in our conversation. I give him a dose of my favorite piece of astronomical brain twisters relating to gravity, universal forces, the nature and properties of light, etc., etc. and it's great fun with John. It's the same stuff I laid on Craig Fenstermaker at our Tuesday dinner. It beats talking politics or religion for the obvious reason that most people don't get too emotional while discussing the wave and particle properties of light. Anything to distract us from the very likely potential that within a few minutes we will have to break into a rental car. Oh goodie! We arrive back at Ralph and Alices' apt. and look around just in case the errant keys just happen to be sitting there. No dice. Pergolizzi cracks a wide smile as he knows right away it is going to be up to him to gain entry to the car. "Done it many times before" he says. Tools. Flashlight, check. Pliar, check. Coathanger, check. Swiss Army Knife (engraved with his name no less!), check! Sally stays behind as she sends her Superman downstairs to rescue the Damsels in distress. Dale and I follow the superhero out to our car as we walk through the night in our high heels and pettycoats. The car is parked directly in front of the former Scripps family mansion which is up for sale at the moment. 31 bedrooms; only $15 million. So here we are trying to break into this car at midnight in La Jolla. John takes a look at what he's up against and it looks doable with the tools at hand. He bends a small hook on the end of the wire and makes a few bends based on past experience and some mental calculations. He starts pushing it in and eventually it appears on the inside of the car from a spot that is a bit of a surprise. No worries. Inside is inside. The wiggeling begins and continues for about 20 or 30 mins. John is the picture of determination. Failier is NOT in his vocabulary! A WHOLE LOT of swear words are though!! Finally I suggest to John to try sweet talking the bitch. Within a few seconds John is pleading with the door lock and saying "Who loves you, baby?" The little knob is finally seduced into letting us in and Yureka! The keys are in the ignition apparently just waiting for someone to sit down and turn them. As johns' halo is blinding Dale I reach into the car and grab the keys so "nothing else can go wrong". We celebrate for a few minutes and then we're off into the night. We went directly home without any wrong turns but Dale had to endure more last minute instructions. Right near the end we turned onto some railroad tracks and were immediately hit headon by a train. Then there were all these little devils and stuff..........

Good night, Mr. Toad!

Brian Baylis La Mesa, CA Sometimes I make myself laugh. Who invented the mirror anyway? Quote of the day: "Man, that must be some special piece of meat to get away with that!"