On routine

  Last week, after leaving work in Sausolito, I decided that a ride over Tam to see what I could of the sunset over the Pacific would be just the thing after a long day of wrenching.  So I headed up Old Railroad Grade and made it to the top just in time to see the sun burning down the expanse of the great Western horizon, framed by the sharp outlines of the trees around the peaks.
  It's times like those that make me most confused.  On the one hand I can spend the day in a shop, looking at bikes, fiddling with nuts and bolts, and twirling wrenches; and then, just after that I can be climbing up through the encroaching dusk, following a bewildered jack rabbit up the radiant fireroad.  When in the latter place, I often wish I could spend more time there, but wonder if that would just end up being routine in the same way working on bikes often seems?  How can we achieve the proper balance?
  Is it just comfort to which we become accustomed?  How can adventure be a part of daily life, and is the next shifting problem or squealing brake any less of an exploration than the next turn of the trail?
  All I can say for sure is that it sure is great having the silver bike back in action!  I'll post photos of that process soon.

Looking back over the bay from Tam.

Looking up the road toward Pacifica