California Love, continued.

So where were we?

Oh yeah. Suz and I hit the town Friday night.

We caught up with our Catalan friends at the Mucky Duck in Monterey. It was pretty gangsta on a Friday night and at first we were wondering why the hell they would want to stay, what with all the sideways ball caps, 4ft x 4ft 22 year old single mothers of 3, and pop-inflected rap tunes. But then we figured it out. It was where they picked up all their dance moves for the year.

Suz gets a lift, though I am not sure why. Usually you pick up cute, little people, right? Not the six footers?
Though I don’t recall this photo being taken, I guess it was my turn for a lift.

After goofing off outside the club for an hour after closing,  I found a cab and immediately upon climbing in, my brother called.  He insisted that I have the cab go to the Carl’s Jr. drive through and that I buy 20 dollars worth of burgers and fries, because he and Jeff and another friend were in the room withering from hunger, and too much beer. THEIR cabbie wouldn’t go through the drive through at 3am, so I was their only hope.

Not wanting to allow my kin to suffer unnecessarily, I obliged and directed the cab to the drive through. Three guys behind the cab walked through the drive through behind me, making car noises. They honked at my cab a lot. Surprisingly, they got served.


I made it back with the bag full o’ burgers and three noisy guys with many drinks inside them cheered me like a hero. One of those guys was none other than Christian Fletcher. Shawn met him on one of his many extended surf trips to Bali, where Christian was residing at the time. I guess CF is back in California now, and digs motorcycles so he went to the GP. My brother met up with him and he hung out with us all weekend. He was funny and honest and not not nearly as intimidating as I always heard him described as.

Side Note: If you surf, you know that this guy is one of the most influential surfers of all time. I remember hearing about the crazy things he was doing 15 years ago on a surfboard – he was a living legend at 25 year old and his name struck fear in people who had to compete against him or even paddle up next to him in the surf line up. Descriptions of his personality used words like dangerous and wild, and people who knew him said he was crazy and out of control.

Jeff, who was staying in the house, had a man crush on Christian since he was a kid. So hanging with him Friday night made him school girlishly giddy, and the next day he made me take a nonchalant photo of him and his hero.

Jeff and his man-crush, Christian.

The rest of Saturday was a long day of meeting up with friends and eatin Ducati Island hospitality food.

Breakfast of champs – tall boys and doughnuts.
I ran into some folks from the US offices and they corralled me into a garage tour with Randy Mamola. We ended up standing outside of the Tech 3 garages while Randy talked.And surprisingly, two designers from the Italy office were there. It was a shock to run into them as I had no idea they would be there. Incidentally it was the first MotoGP race one of them had  ever been to.
The Italians listen to Randy.

Did I mention there were a lot of people in the house? Well there were and I was the only girl. Fabio proclaimed the living room smelled like wet dog. I agreed.



Every evening we had a nice dinner somewhere, our big group give or take a few, and usually some other stragglers.  Then I would head out with my brother, Susanna, and occasionally some of the other guys. But sometimes they weren’t up for going out, and Jeff let us know.


One thought on “California Love, continued.

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