cowboy saves the day

For the past 2 days I have been working for a wine country bike touring company. Does this not sound like the best job in the world? I ride my bike, meet new people and drink wine. Then I get paid, tipped, and go home. The down side? Pushy, whiny rich people.

On Thursday I was in Oregon picking up Jerry-dog and debugging my computer when I got a call from a good friend. We have a couple that decided to change their itinerary and we need someone to lead a tour. I thought of you. I was super excited to bike and drink wine and make some money, so on a moments notice, I packed up my stuff, arranged to pick up my computer in town, and headed back to Santa Rosa. I got here around 11pm. I was wired from all the caffeine I drank to stay awake and so I changed my bike tires, filled my camel back and gathered all my biking stuffs before I studied my route map. Then I tried to sleep. It didn't work.

I rolled out of bed in the morning and met up with another guide to load the van and we headed out to Napa Valley. I worried that I wouldn't be able to keep up. They had asked me to do the tour because they were into cycling more than sipping and wanted a challenging ride. They had $6,000 titanium bikes.

I met them at the lodge and led them through the mountains beyond Calistoga to an old time winery. They grilled me about my guiding experience. I lied. I tried to check the map stuffed into my silly lycra shorts when they weren't looking. I don't know much about wine, I said, but I've been around this area a bunch. These things are both true. I just started working for this company this summer. Also true. I've led a number of tours, mostly private. Not true. Unless you count my bike adventures through the valley to orient myself. I did tell them I had not ridden this particular route.

The first hill lasted over 5 miles. The woman, Nancy, complained incessantly. She groaned and stopped and went and stopped and went and groaned some more. My favorite quote was this: I don't like to complain, but I don't like this anymore. I did my best to stay positive and tried to keep them both happy by showing them the map (I was secretly studying it simultaneously) and pointing out that it was all downhill after lunch.

The hills finally subsided and fear set in after a 10 minute break to change my flat rear tire. We were late, we were all hungry, they wanted a van ride, which they had agreed they wouldn't need (i didn't have a van), and we were 10 miles from lunch and at least 20 minutes late by that point.

I was relieved to see the final turn onto the road where our lunch was waiting. Nancy and I walked our bikes up the hill as I told her about how my mom likes to 'take her bike for a walk' up the steep hills in Canyonlands. She decided she would really like my mom. And she would. She was a great, fun lady when she wasn't falling into the money is power mindset. But I was thankful for the work and the excuse to spend an entire day on my bike. And it was nice to remember again why I hate money.

The old-time winery was in the sticks, nestled between hills covered in grass, oak and vines. The couple that owned and operated the winery also owned and operated a bed and breakfast and a racehorse ranch. Jim, the cowboy was quite a character. He told us of his days growing up in Hollywood, learning to ride, learning to train racehorses and hanging with the big dogs of the racetracks. We ate some great food fresh from their garden and exchanged glances as Jim talked. By the end of lunch both Nancy and I had deduced that Jim was a bit creepy after many comments about my fitness, my legs, etc. keep riding he said, you look great. It was time to go. Nancy and I walked away to fill our water bottles and she put her arm around me. Was it just me or was he a bit creepy? If you were my daughter I would have told him off! But you did a great job of being diplomatic about it. You handled it well.

And so she was my buddy, and we bonded over creepy cowboy guy. After a bit of cold water, wine, shade and some great food, we headed on homeward. It was all downhill from there. Except for the parts that weren't, and the flat tire 10 miles from their lodge, and the phone tag I played with the office and the other guide that was going to pick us up.

On Saturday I worked with the couple again only this time accompanied by a more experienced guide and the couple's eldest son and his girlfriend. They were ready for a break as they had been cycling all week, and I had worn them out the day before. There was much tasting of wine, and even more complaining from their son. My butt hurts, i hate biking, I'm going back to the lodge, this sucks... and on and on.... he threw the $1600 bike around like it was garbage, and told me: You know the stupid part is my parents think they are such good cyclists, but i beat them up the hill. He is 25, they are 52, and 53. The 'hill' was not a hill at all. He didn't make it more than 3 miles before complaining of how much biking sucks. He walked his bike up the road and into the parking lot at the end of the day.

And their attitudes wore on me. Their disrespect for other's property rubbed me the wrong way, and the constant sucking up made me want to puke. Learn to read a map, I thought, and spare the service industry. I still like Nancy, though. She rocks.