Racing home. From some ass-like airport somewhere in the middle of the country. Or, yesterday - racing home form Austin - which does not suck. Austin out-does Boulder on the ironic hipster scale - which is hard to do. But eating a breakfast burrito yesterday after a great dinner at The Woodland and staying at the pukishly hip (yet quiet and chill and perfect for Ukelele playing) Hotel San Jose. Gotta say. A bad day in Austin - might just be better than a good day at the office. Raced home tonite and TT'd upthe PERFECTLY MANICURED switchbacks of natural gas. Did my 1,000 foot penance to get to Euphoria before sunset. Ride 3 rangers. Sign in and suck down beer and Justin's Nut Butter and Kate's Real Food. Load the lights up and drop to the hose in utter, udder darkness. Night riding is like playing a video game. Until you hit a tree. Alone at nite is particularly cool. The sharp end, as it were. Lovely. Countdown to ectasy for the holidays and FLorida waves and skate and sun and family. No more planes for work this year. God Bless AMerica. And god bless the fun park.