Last Friday, Mr. W’s Rocker Brother flew in from Vegas to spend the weekend with us. He happened to have the time off when our Lake featured the Robert Cray Band in the free sunset concert. I’d never heard Robert Cray’s music before, I only knew of him as a blues musician that Rocker Bro had paid good money to watch in concert before. Oh, and that Mr. W had been turned on to Robert Cray by his ex brother-in-law (who remains one of his best friends to date). Then recently Flat Coke & Flies mentioned that she liked his music as well.
On our way home from work Friday, an old pickup truck to our left on the freeway decided to change lanes abruptly to be in front of us. Unfortunately, that’s also where a motorcycle was. The truck cut off the street bike at an angle, not seeing him, and the biker ran his front tire into the side of the truck. The truck swerved back into his own lane, but it was now too late for the biker, who flipped his motorcycle forward, then flipped forward head-first over his bike, and landed on the ground. Everyone stopped in their lanes, including the red pick-up. The motorcyclist staggered on the ground, trying to get up, then fell back down on his right side. After ascertaining that no one was going to run anyone over, Mr. W ran out of the car and to the biker, leaning over him. I stayed in the car and called 911, gave the location on the freeway, and described the accident, asked for immediate paramedic help. I told the operator the biker is conscious as I see his foot move every few seconds, and that traffic was starting to flow again in the right lane but that the left two lanes were blocked by the red truck, us, and the biker in front of us in our lane. Another biker on a Harley rode up to the pieces of Yamaha street bike and offered assistance, and I later learned the Harley rider is a fireman paramedic. The firetruck arrived in minutes with CHP soon following in tow. That’s a bad way to start a weekend. Stats show motorcycle-related accidents have skyrocketed this year. Mr. W later told me the kid in the street bike thinks he may have a broken shoulder or arm as his right side was numb, but that he didn’t think he hit his head (he was thankfully wearing full protective head- and body-gear) and thinks he could just go home. Not the time to be stoic, Asian boy. The guy in the rusty red pickup truck was an older (maybe late 40s or early 50s) Hispanic man who was chainsmoking through the entire fiasco, and I was surprised to see he had a woman (wife?) as a passenger, who never got out of the car. I try to look over my shoulder when Mr. W’s making lane changes, just to check his blind-spots and prevent things like this.
Soon, Mr. W dropped me off at home to make dinner and he was on his way to pick up his Rocker Bro at the airport. I’d hoped he told his brother about this, as his brother’s primary transportation is also by motorcycle. But in talking with Rocker Bro afterwards, I was relieved to find that he appears to be very conscious of the road and other (blind) drivers, and that he rides conservatively. We chatted over lasagna, French bread, and pinot noir. Rocker Bro hadn’t eaten anything but breakfast that day, knowing I’d have lasagna ready when he arrived. He was VERY gracious in his compliments about my culinary skills and had three large helpings. (Spicy Italian sausage w/fat drained, 4 kinds of mushrooms, zucchini, black olives, spinach, onions, tomatoes, red bell peppers, fresh basil.)
The next morning is the Saturday of the concert. On concert days, we reserve spots on the Lake by using picnic blankets, and the Lake hands out different colored wristbands at random at 6:30 a.m., and then picks the sequence of people for dibs by randomly drawing of wristbands. My wristband, black 8, was called first so I went in and put my blanket down right smack stage center on the grass. Mr. W’s wristband was called 3rd and I managed to move my blanket over so that he set his down next to mine for a huge lot right in the center. Here’s a photo of the stage from our location:
We went back to the house, Mr. W made healthyish cinnamon-oatmeal-flax muffins for breakfast, and then we drove to the Lake to leave Mr. W’s car there for later (early prime parking). While we were there, the three of us kayaked for an hour and got some upper body exercise in. Then we walked back home for lower body exercise. I drove us to a late lunch of Fuddrucker’s in my car, we stopped by the store to get some alcohol for the Lake, went home and changed, then we bought some KFC grilled chicken and walked back to the Lake to watch the concert.
I loved the opening band, a bunch of old guys named The Missiles of October. We were amused as soon as the drummer walked onstage in his gray hair and gray mohawk that had the top half sprayed bright blue, put on his reading glasses, and sat at the drums. They were phenomenal, fun, energetic, and could sing and play. They received a standing ovation and did one encore song. I even went and bought their CD after their performance.
Then, Robert Cray. I’m not sure what happened. I fell asleep. Maybe it was because it got dark. Rocker Bro later said that Robert Cray isn’t as good live as he is recorded, that he didn’t seem to “feel” his music; it felt to Rocker Bro in the last concert he’d gone to, too, that Robert Cray seemed to just be doing a job. He still got a request encore and did an encore set.
I think Mr. W had a good time, though, because not only did he stay awake, but he had so many coffee martinis that I had to drive us home. Haha.
Sunday, the three of us drove to Dana Point beach and walked around the rocks trying to find tidepools to peer into. The tide was too high so all we did was do some balancing acts on the many rocks, admire the waves, chat, comment on the many shells and the precarious positions of rocks on the cliffs, and make our way back. I got thigh-deep in warm ocean water and was glad for my water shoes. We had a lunch of paninis at a local healthy panini grill restaurant, then got home right in time for my former jujitsu sensei, Ramon, to call and say he was around the corner from our house. He was test-riding this weekend’s jujitsu bike ride/campout event from his office to our house. I invited him and his wife (following him by car) to our house, we sat and had a drink as they cooled off in our backyard, and they were off to do the last leg of the bike ride, from our house to O’Neill Regional Park (the campgrounds). We soon took Rocker Bro to the airport for his flight home.
Great weekend, I hope he had fun!
