So tomorrow morning, Thursday, when I’m usually heading up Kings via the park, I’ll be doing what I said I’d not do. Driving in a car to Dixon, where my mom’s husband will be buried.

Just so you know, I’ve discussed this with my wife today, this final resting place thing. I don’t know why it became an emotional thing for me. Previously I’d told my wife (and anybody else who’d listen) that I wanted to be cremated and have my ashes spread over Sonora Pass in the Sierras. I can’t remember her previous wishes for herself, but I asked if she might consider a change of plans. That whomever goes first “waits” for the other, and our remains mixed together.

I don’t really care if our physical remains spend the rest of eternity in an urn in a vault or scattered over the sea like my dad was. I just care that it’s with Karen, my love, my wife.

It’s nice having alerts that send to your phone, which sends to your Garmin, which is seen in the way up Kings, telling you that somewhere between Bear Gulch and Sky Londa the road is closed due to downed power lines.

Not that the climb out of Native Sons is particularly fun, but it is one of the three official dead-end roads running west of Skyline, and it’s nice to do something different once in a while.

Since last time we rode here they’ve added more height to the gate at the end, even topping it with barbed wire. Looks serious!