Later, that same day, we hit the mean streets of the greater Puget Sound region, and worked our way up to Anacortes. Destination: Friday Harbor. Tookalongtime. (See?? How social media is affecting me already???)
On the way, we were able to extricate Jacque out of the big city.
The enticement being, a particular jam session:
There was a righteous clam bake, and of course, uke-craving souls were to be filled with uke music aplenty.
At the time, I was not a uke player, and maybe at this moment I am or am not. Whether it would have changed the story in any way? Oh, I think maybe it woulda. Or maybe not. We will certainly never know.
Irrelevant, in any case. My bike had been locked up in the back of my canopy-covered truck bed for well over 24 hours and needed to frickin' breathe.
So we seized the moment and did a little rideabout.
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| Yes, I won. |
Thank you for tuning in to another episode of the slowest story ever told, and good night.
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