Termites, pastrami and rubbery legs

I've been told the universe is turning in my favor lately. 

It certainly didn't feel like that two weeks ago when the recent spate of unusually hot weather brought some unwanted guests to my house -- termites.

From what I understand, termites are an interminable pest to homeowners whose homes are not built from cement or steel. Termites chew on wood and seek to destroy everything that is good, night and day, 365 days a year, and will never be eradicated.

Much like Shitgibbon and his brigade of Red Hats.

The best one can hope for is to wipe out one colony, thus giving pause til the next one arrives subterraneously and begins gnawing at the foundations, see aforementioned GOP analogy. 

And so I did what all homeowners must do every 10 years or so, I hired a fumigator to tent my home and pump it full of noxious gasses. 

More noxious and toxic than my own.

All of which gave Ms. Muse, my zealous bike-riding friend and I, an opportunity to skip town and head north to tackle the Lighthouse Century Ride. The ride comes in three flavors: 100 miles for the hardcore cyclist, with legs of steel and dreams of conquering the Ironman. Those days are long gone for me. 

There's also the Metric Century, 65 miles of pushing/pulling/heaving/hoing along California's scenic and often-hilly Route 1 all the way to Sam Simeon.

And finally, there's the perineum-pounding 45 miles (Century Lite) which stretches from Morro Bay (Land of Many Motels) to breathtaking Cambria, home of the Bridge Street Cafe (home of the most delicious pastrami sandwich this side of the Hudson River.)

I'm no Spring Chicken, though I often delude myself into thinking I still have the body of a fit 44 year old, and opted for option three. It's three days after the ride and my shoulders are still creaky from being hunched over the handlebars of my Cinelli racing bike. 

I won't lie, and admit that I am slightly disappointed that we didn't push ourselves north of Cambria to the obscenely gaudy gates of Hearst Castle.

However, on a positive note, my replacement hip performed flawlessly. Particularly when confronted with steep coastal hills, where I slid into the left side of the bike lane and effortlessly passed riders half my age. 

And make no mistake, I am gloating about that.