Sunday Ride in Pleasanton - Steamfest II

I woke up sunday, with the normal blues, too much to do on my theoretical day off, and no inspiration to do it. My motorcycle sits in garage down stairs, as i looked around in bed at my antique french furniture, i woundered if it's batteries where dead from lack of use. My first quest of the mourning, was trying to find the keys to the motorcycle, which of course i blamed everyone but myself for missplacing, and found them in a obvious tray, of which someone had placed things that where important that i had left around.

The Harley motor bike sat in the dust ... like an archive from the 40's, it's springs shocks, no window shield, and a big cushy seat hide the fact that it has a modern reliable engine inside it. It has no full gauge, so i checked the level by open the gas cap and looking inside ... i had my keys and it had gas ... so i had a go. I was surpised when i hit the starter and the engine rolled over, I was thinking this had a chance. With another twist, the engine started, and i let it idle to charge the batteries and oil all the clicking sounds.

Keeping to city streets, to mellow my reticence in driving motorcyles, I passed by my local coffee shop, which i normally walk to ... that what my decision to go on my sunday drive. There's a small town through the tree's next to pleasanton, called sunol ... really it's just a street with a coffee shop and dinner, with the rest of the shops closed. Going 25 miles an hour through small 2 lane roads, I almost messed up on some gravel around a blind turn, but i made it the 2 miles to the small town's coffee shop ... called the sunol jazz cafe.

I parked the harley, costing into a faded spot, next to pick up trucks and cars you find in a old country town that has been passed by. I was somewhat surprised to find activity in the shop, after talking to the cook on making me a omelete, i sat next to a old paino and stage, where the jazz players do their sets in the night. The cafe actually got a bit crowded, which means to me that someone sat within 3 meters of me, chairs moved and pathing became complex as people nudged chairs out of alignment.

As i sat, i worked on some notes of game theory as it's relates to color and texture, in a small notebook i had placed in my old leather biking jacket. I'm not sure if it's good or bad, when one looks the part of a old biker, slightly dishelved, painted boots, and a face that looked a bit worn with a beard that had started 3 days ago on it's own. But, more or less, i was a biker faker, designing an AI system in the corner for a new virtual reality exhibit i was doing for the elves.

I left the cafe and noticed a commotion across the street, on some old raid road tracks. I decided to not get on my bike, and walk over to the tracks to investigate. I plume of dark smoke shot into the air through the tree's, as i saw excited children bubble around, as an old guy, i watched the children nervously, thinking they where to close to the train tracks, but then i noticed true human artifacts more concerned then i, assure the the children where away from the tracks.

A second steam engine, puffing steam, excitement, high wind with shouting greeting, dragged itself up the tracks to where i was standing. I had inadvertently run into Steamfest ... where old steam engines had gathered, and there older still looking engineers watched over them. I was exciting at a base boyish level, reminded of the old train stations in paris, that Monet painted ... the texture of black paint over plating, steam, and the weight of steal revealed the evolution of industry we have recently seen.

After getting a t-shirt, to mark the event for myself, I got back on my harley, careful of the train tracks and dinging safety lights. A few minutes away from my house, traveling through the trees and some older tracks, i pondered what what i would paint of the steam and the bright black colors, that revealed themselves within the steam.