Allyson Johnson

Pieces of my Mind

Archive for the category “Freeway Free”

06 Aug 2025
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A Piece of My Mind: The Last Ride

I loved the freedom of riding a bicycle ever since I first learned to balance my balloon-tired Schwinn on the tar roads I grew up with.  As a child I could ride as far as the neighborhoods that had pavement and sidewalks and could admire the columned porches and vast green lawns behind the fences. When I was 12, I won a three-speed lightweight bike in a contest.  I was over the moon. That bike took me through college, getting me to class on time as I swooped past plodding pedestrians, until in my senior year I left it unlocked for just a few minutes and it was gone. 

After I was married my husband and I treated each other to Raleigh three-speeds, as we had only one car.  I would pedal across town to the home of a co-worker and we would carpool together;  I drove the carpool on alternate weeks, while my husband would either bike or bus to his job.  

Our children started them out with bike seats on the back of our bikes, then encouraged them to learn to ride themselves.  Once they had mastered their bikes, we took them and the bikes to Yosemite, to San Francisco, to Monterey, and on every bike trail within thirty miles.   

Years later.  My husband had a fall a few years ago and his knees are going out,  but I continued to ride my bicycle, against his advice, on local errands: to the library, to my hairdresser, to the blood bank. “What if you have a crash?” he would ask me.  “People are going to read about it in the paper and say “What the heck is a woman that age doing on a bicycle anyway?” 

“I’m careful, “ I said.  “I’m not going to crash.”  And I didn’t, exactly.

I hopped on my bike on a Saturday morning to pick up some bagels from the House of Bagels, about a fifteen-minute ride from my house. A lovely morning – just enough high clouds to keep cool, no traffic.  I sailed along the main street on the way to the bagel shop, taking a few detours on loop streets to admire the jacaranda trees in bloom, check out the progress of the construction projects, see if there were any windfall fruits to be picked up.  I zoomed into the parking lot by the bagel shop… and my brain froze.

I couldn’t remember how to dismount from the bike.

I had had a little trouble dismounting the last couple of times I had ridden;  the most recent time I managed somehow to give my shin a good whack and had raised a faint blue bruise.  But I had gotten off this bicycle hundreds of times. The act should have been deep in my muscle memory, something I did without thinking.  Now I had to think. To dismount, I only had to do in reverse what I had so easily done getting on: lean on the left pedal, swing my leg up and over the seat and rear wheel, apply the brakes.  I circled around the parking lot and tried again. No way. Nothing but icy fear of losing my balance, of falling.

There was a high curb with a railing not far from the bagel shop.  I pulled up to that, stopped, and then managed to step up onto the curb, hold onto the railing and haul my leg over the cross bar.  Shaken, I walked the bike across the lot to my usual lockup spot next to the bagel shop. “That was weird,” I thought.  “That was really weird.” 

I bought two bagels, swung onto my bike with no problem, rode home, rode up my driveway… and my brain froze again. I couldn’t do it. I could not swing myself off.  My muscle memory had gone dead.

I braked and with some difficulty managed to get my leg over the crossbar without falling over.  I trundled my bike into the garage and parked it next to my husband’s bike. which was covered in cobwebs. His tires were so flat the wheel rims touched the ground. I stood looking at it for a few moments.

Then I locked my bike up as usual, went into the house, and emailed the local Bicycle Exchange.  I have two bikes to donate.  Within two days the bicycles and all associated accessories were gone.

 I know this was a good decision.  I have several friends who have been injured severely when their bikes slipped out from under them.  But I miss the freedom of riding my bike.  I miss being able to stop and inspect changes in my neighbor’s gardens, to take short cuts through suburban bikeways, to not worry about parking. I’m envious of the people who are trying out the newly painted bike lanes on El Camino and El Monte.  It’s no fun driving to my hairdresser.  On Saturday morning my husband goes for the bagels now.

There’s an empty space in our garage.  I expect it will gradually fill up with the things that go into garages. I hope the empty spaces in my mind will fill up too.

Posted in Freeway Free, Memoir, TOWN CRIER and tagged , , , , , ,
13 May 2025

Exploring Columbia SC – Eating Around

There’s a lot more to Columbia than the stretch from the Capitol down Main Street to the museum and library. For one thing, it is the home of the University of South Carolina, whose lovely campus is located on the other side of the Capitol from those attractions. The presence of a university almost guarantees a range of good cheap restaurants for feeding starving students escaping dorm food. We tried a couple:

Camon Japanese Restaurant and Sushi Bar on Assembly Street near the campus has Japanese sliding screens, woodcut prints, and unexpectedly excellent sushi. It was empty when we entered at 6PM, and when we ordered an Asahi beer and were told there was no liquor license, we thought we knew why. But by the time we left, well satisfied with our edamame, unagi roll and pork tonkatsu, the place was nearly full of local adults as well as students who were probably underage anyway.

Another night we went further down Main to the Green Olive, its inauspiciously plain exterior surrounded by cracked parking lots and state office buildings. But the interior was much more promising, with a number of comfortable booths and tables testifying to a significant number of expected customers. The server looked exotic enough to be Turkish, but when I asked she giggled and said “No, I’m half Chinese and half Peruvian.”

The presentation of the food made no attempt at artistic plating or frou-frou snips of parsely or fennel. The flavor though was delicious and the amount generous. Again, as we ate the booths began to fill with a diverse population of older adults as well as flannel-shirted twenty-somethings.

Our most successful lunch was at a deli near our hotel downtown. I didn’t expect much from the East Bay Deli, one of five locations in Columbia for a chain that originated up in Charlotte. We went there because it was close to our hotel, we were hungry, and we were with my in-laws and needed a place with a diverse enough menu to satisfy each of our tastes. And it was good. Just plain good. Good bread. Good meat. Real lettuce, not ribby romaine. Crispy fries. Enough food that my in-laws split a sandwich between them.

You won’t starve for lack of good food in Columbia

Posted in Freeway Free, hidden treasures, Memoir, South Carolina and tagged | Leave a comment
17 Sep 2024
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Word Gets Around

I was attending a Women’s Camp on the west side of the Rockies in Colorado. My sister-in-law was at the camp also, along with one of her besties. One evening one of the other campers (DH) drove me and my friend DB to dinner and a theatre in Grand Lake, while my SIL and her friend spent the day touring nearby Rocky Mountain National Park.

Dinner was lively, with sixteen campers chattering away, and afterward we hurried to get to the theatre as it was beginning to rain. I pulled out my phone to check the location of the theatre, and when we parked I hurried around to help DB extricate herself from the seat belt. Only after we were in the theatre and I reached to put my phone on silent mode did I realize that it was not in my purse where it belonged.

Had it fallen out in the car? Or in the parking lot where we had stopped? I rushed from the theatre – the car was locked, and there was no sign of my phone anywhere along the walkway to the theatre. I figured that best case, when the show was over I could ask DH to call my number; if the phone was in the car we would hear it, and if someone had picked it up maybe they might answer a call.

After the show I relayed my plan to DH, and she pulled out her phone. First thing she saw was an urgent message from my SIL: “Allyson’s lost phone was picked up by an Australian man named Barney. He and his friends are at the One Love Rum Kitchen and Bar for trivia night. If Allyson doesn’t get the message he will leave the phone with the bartender.”

Great! DH and I left DB to guard the car and hustled along to the One Love Rum Kitchen. We walked into the lively, well-lit pub and immediately a gentleman was waving my phone in our direction. ( Barney could not have looked more Australian if he had been sent from Central Casting.) Lots of excitement, thanks, hugs, and my phone was restored to me in perfect order (Nancy and Barney at left above). But how had the message reached DH’s phone?

Chain of circumstances:

  1. I had not gotten around to putting a password to secure access to the phone. (Shame on me, but…)
  2. When Barney and his friend Nancy opened the phone, they were able to see that I had recently called HOME.
  3. But when Nancy called HOME, she caught my husband drowsing over a book. He did not understand what Nancy was saying and, thinking it was a prank call, hung up on her.
  4. Undaunted, they went to the next call on the recent list, my younger brother C, who was trailer camping in Wyoming, but happily with decent Internet coverage.
  5. C got the message, and fortunately remembered that our mutual SIL was in Colorado at the camp with me. But he didn’t have her phone number.
  6. So C called my older brother D in Texas, who relayed the message to his wife, whose roommate happened to have the cell phone number for DH, who relayed it to me.

Happy Ending! thanks to the miracle of modern communication, and as always, thanks to the kindness of strangers.

Posted in Colorado, Events, Freeway Free, Memoir, Travel and tagged ,
10 Sep 2024

Bodega Bay – Blink and it’s Gone

One afternoon W needs to rest, so I take a walk down our hotel’s street. Bodega Avenue is sidewalk free and pot holed, lined with little bungalows with bright-colored but peeling paint and cheerful geraniums in containers. At the end of the road are three redwood posts blocking access to what is beyond. I step through – into another world. 

Sidewalks. Gutters. New pavement. A green space to my left with a fountain burbling. And houses, all painted in placid neutral shades with gleaming white trim. At least half of the houses have the driveway blocked with big red fenders – to keep squatters out?  Some of the houses are large, two stories with a deck looking out to the harbor. Some, to my surprise, are small attached cottages no bigger than our suite at the Harbor Bay Inn. A few seem inhabited; in one, a BBQ party is happening on the deck. It seems I’ve been transported to Suburbia, but no, it is the Harbor View development at Bodega Bay.

I go out the flag-bedecked front entrance to the development and make my perilous way along the sidewalk free, shoulder-free Highway 1.

W is still resting, and the fog has lifted completely, so I take the car down to Duran County Park, the long finger that curls across the south end of Bodaga Bay.  There’s an entrance fee of $7, which takes my last folding money. I drive past a Bird Walk, a Day Use area, several Reservations Only campgrounds filled with tents and trailers, a Visitors Center, and a Coast Guard station, all the way to the tip of the finger, site of a Day Use parking lot and a fine view of the headlands we had been on in the morning. 

The Visitor’s Center is closed, but there is an information sign posted nearby explaining what you can see from this point:  Jetty, the coast guard station, Mt.Tamalpais in the distance on a clear day, Point Reyes in the near distance, and then to the east “South Harbor Bay” and “North Harbor Bay”. These are clearly seen and they are developments, which from this distance look very much like Harbor View. They encrust the hillsides south of Bodega Bay like barnacles.  Who lives in these developments. Are they all second homes?  How long will it be before their residents demand a Safeway instead of Diekmann’s Bay Store or the Pelican Point Grocery? How much longer than that before a Costco sets up in Valley Ford?

Better visit Bodega Bay quickly.  Blink and it’s gone.

Posted in California, Freeway Free, hidden treasures, Travel and tagged , | Leave a comment
03 Sep 2024

Eating Out in Bodega Bay – Primitive to Posh

Our Personal Travel Agent has made a reservation for us at Drake’s, the most elegant restaurant in the area.  I am a bit intimidated since the fine print on our reservation says “Smart Casual” is the dress standard, and I left my smart pants at home.  Not to worry – the guy in jeans, suspenders, and a fishing hat has a window seat, so they are not being too picky on a Monday night.

 We splurge on a drink apiece beforehand. The Artisan Bread Basket comes from the delightful Della Fattoria Bakery in Petaluma, and includes delectable olive bread. We each have a bowl of onion soup, a delicious variation on the French theme – light broth full of barely caramelized onions, and just a small circle of toasted baguette with cheese melted on top floating in the broth. Plenty of room left for us to split a dish of mussels and pasta. Be warned – the most elegant restaurant in Bodega Bay has pricing to match. But it was worth it.

The next morning the fog is in, and we dilly-dally about the suite until the fog has lifted enough for us to see the headlands across the bay.

Bay Flat Road curves around to the west side of Bodega Bay, which shelters the bay against the Pacific.  The bay side of the road is lined with boat ramps and marinas, the hill side features crab shacks where you can again find “the best clam chowder in Bodega Bay“, along with crab cakes, crab cocktail, crab sandwiches, crab tacos…. Too bad I’m allergic to crab. But there are plenty of people sitting outside at picnic tables who apparently are not worried about allergies. My #2 son assured me that for crab lovers these shacks are the epitome of gourmet delight. I’ll bet their clam chowder is pretty good too.

For our second night we have dinner at the Tides, a large family-friendly restaurant with ample parking right next to the harbor. There is not so much elegance here as at Drake’s, the food is ample but just so-so, and service on a Tuesday night is slow though friendly. On the other hand, the dining room boasts a terrific view of the harbor, and the cost of a glass of red wine or a shot of good Scotch is about half the charge at Drake’s. If I had it to do over, I’d come to the Tides first, and move up to Drake’s as a finale.

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27 Aug 2024

Freeway Free in California: Getaway to Bodega Bay

Past Petaluma and on through rolling hills and farmland, we roll through a few scattered small villages (Two Rocks, Valley Ford, Bodega) and then up a narrow two lane version of highway 1 to Bodega Bay. On the left the road bristles with boat masts, fishing shops, a fish market, and small restaurants all boasting “the best Clam Chowder in Bodega Bay”. On the right, small bungalows perch on the hillside, with pink naked ladies (more politely known as amaryllis lilies) thrusting up out of the bare ground, and brilliant geraniums overflowing from containers. A hairpin turn past The Birds restaurant (bodega bay was a filming site for Hitchcock’s classic) and the Candy and Kites store, a sharp right on Bodega Road, and we are at the Bodega Harbor Inn, our refuge for the next few days.

The Bodega Harbor Inn exceeds my expectations. For about $270 a night we have an attached cottage, including a spacious living room with a 180 degree view of the harbor, a tiny kitchenette with a mini fridge and freezer (real ice cubes!), a microwave, a coffee maker, an electric tea kettle, and plenty of mugs and plastic utensils. The two bedrooms offer a queen or king size bed. The smaller bed shares the space with an ample wardrobe and has the harbor view again, the larger one has no closet but is completely sheltered from road noise and street light. Outside, a pair of Adirondack chairs invites laid-back appreciation of the scenery and the passing parade of cars and families on the way to the Candy and Kites store.

The afternoon is warm and sunny, and we spend it driving north along the Sonoma Coast Beaches: Salmon Creek, Shell, Carnet, Schoolhouse, and a half-dozen others all tempting a turnout. We have our sights on Goat Rock at the end of the string of beaches. There we find a wonderful view of sea and surf up and down the coast, with Arch Rock perfectly positioned for photos to the south, Goat Rock looming due west, and a sandy beach with easy access to the north. We take the photos, descend to the beach, get our feet sandy and our toes wet, and head south again. Southward we are on the scenic side of the road, and we enjoy the panorama of rocky coast and soaring spray all the way back to our refuge.

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20 Aug 2024
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Freeway Free in California: Petaluma Rates more than a Pit Stop

On the way to a Getaway Weekend in Bodega Bay, we plan to stop in Petaluma for lunch, with fingers crossed as far as what we might find. Our apprehensions at first seem justified, as our first lunch choice has an empty parking space right in front (always a bad sign) and a sign on the door saying, “CLOSED FOR VACATION – see you soon!” So, we walk up the street to Della Fattoria’s Downtown Cafe -Bakery and Breakfast, where the waiting line on a Sunday morning is 30-40 minutes long.  But there is a chair for W, other options are few, and I set out to stroll the block while W waits and checks her email.

Petaluma’s “historic downtown” boasts impressive bank buildings and movie theaters from the 20’s which have been converted to event venues and antique malls, and storefronts of boutique shops – a bridal salon, exotic housewares, a pie shop, Tibetan handcrafts, and children’s clothing and toys. I’m tempted by the sale rack in front of the Bliss Bridal Salon – it almost would be worth getting married again if I could score a satin wedding gown for only $20! A closer look revealed the size 6 tags – a dream I could not fit into even in my youngest and curviest days.

Back at Della Fattoria our number comes up, and we are glad we waited. The decor is eclectic (“No two chandeliers match!” remarks W) the service is a bit slow but friendly (servers seem to be the gating factor for the 30- minute wait – or maybe the kitchen – as there is plenty of seating at long tables, a breakfast bar, and lots of smaller tables.) The menu offered lots of interesting choices for breakfast/brunch/lunch.  I opted for my favorite Avocado Toast – an extra $2.50 for a poached egg on top- and W had Stacy’s Special Breakfast Salad, involving lettuce, arugula, two poached eggs, lots of bacon crumbles, and a heritage tomato.  The side basket of Artisan Bread includes delectable olive bread as well as excellent sourdough slices. (We learn later that Della Fattoria’s bread is famous throughout the North Bay.)

Replete with bread and avocado and eggs, we make our way out of Petaluma and onto the next adventure, but I have a secret resolution to return and check out some more of those interesting little shops, fortified by more of that wonderful bread.

Posted in California, Freeway Free, Travel and tagged ,
06 Aug 2024
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Freeway Free in France: Following the Unsteady Footprints of van Gogh

Arles, of course, was one of the stops Vincent van Gogh made while searching for sanity and artistic fulfillment in Provence. After the dark murk of the Netherlands, the bright colors and warm weather seemed to galvanize his artistic expression, but unfortunately did little to stabilize his mercurial mood swings.

Arles was van Gogh’s home for eighteen months, and some of his best-known paintings were executed during that period. Modern Arles has seized on van Gogh’s posthumous popularity by providing posters marking the sites as above.

In Arles, van Gogh lived for a time with Paul Gauguin in the Yellow House which appears in several paintings. This house no longer exists. However, the hospital to which he was committed after he cut off his ear in an alcohol-enhanced rage still exists, its courtyard now filled with post cards, posters, t-shirts, and other memorabilia of the artist’s stay.

Just a block or so away is the cafe where van Gogh and Gauguin hung out. At the time, the cafe was painted a modest beige with brown trim, but that’s not the way van Gogh saw it or painted it. Surprise! the restaurant is now bright yellow with blue trim and yellow awnings, just as van Gogh saw it.

Outside the center of town is Alyscamp, a park centered on an avenue of trees leading to a Romanesque chapel. The trees cannot be painted to match van Gogh’s vision, but it is interesting to compare that vision with reality. in a mental hospital. The park is green and peaceful, with romantic ruins and vistas. The interior of the chapel includes a pool filling the lower lever -not clear whether this is intentional or an accident of age.

As van Gogh’s mental instability grew, Gauguin moved out, and van Gogh’s brother Theo enabled him to relocate to a mental hospital in St. Remy, which still exists.  Reading the lists of treatments to which mental patients were subjected at this time is like reading of the Spanish Inquisition. The patients were confined in ice cold baths, bound, beaten, and burned, all with the idea of driving out the devils which had taken over their thoughts and actions.

Part of the hospital is still used as an asylum, but one can still see van Gogh’s bedroom and the tubs used for the ice cold baths to reduce his choleric humors.

But outside, one can still see the orchard which inspired his painting, and iris are still blooming in the garden.

Later van Gogh was released from the hospital at St. Remy, and went to stay at Auvers, where he pained perhaps his best-known work “The Starry Night.” He died two days after suffering a gunshot wound. There is controversy about whether the wound was self-inflicted or whether it was the result of an accidental shooting by a group of teenagers who alternately patronized and teased van Gogh.

The leader of the group was the son of the local pharmacist, who owned the only gun in town. The son was prone to dress up in cowboy garb after seeing the Buffalo Bill Wild West show in Paris, and left town abruptly the evening that van Gogh appeared with his gunshot wound. Of course, this theory is not as attractive as the image of the tormented artist driven to suicide by a lack of appreciation, as Don McClain’s “Starry Starry Night” would have it.

Posted in France, Freeway Free, Memoir, Travel and tagged , ,
30 Jul 2024

Freeway Free in France: Eating our Hearts Out in Arles

On our first evening in Arles we rendez-vous with our friends at the Cafe Factory Republique, a modest bistro with comfortable outside seating, where it seemed all the customers were English-speaking expats.  EJ’s Duolingo French being limited, he exploits the change to get insider tips from the expats, which we will benefit from for the rest of the trip.

The next day, EJ and I stop for lunch at one of the places recommended by his new Canadian friends, Le Criquet. For my enthusiastic thoughts about this spot, check my previous post. Only later did I discover that Rick Steves is also a fan of this spot, and we were lucky to get a last-minute table.

EJ went birding and missed a dinner at Michelin-recommended Le Gibolin. This is a small bistro with a remarkable wine list. The dish we all focused on was an appetizer, the spring pea soup, a brilliant green concoction with all the springy sweetness of a vegetable straight off the vine, somehow preserved in a bowl.

The next night EJ, BB and I ate deliciously at l’Entrevue, a Moroccan restaurant by the river recommended by my French friend CRH. This restaurant is affiliated with an excellent bookstore, Actes Sud, a cinema specializing in films related to the Arles area and history, and a Turkish-style hammam, offering various spa-type services in addition to the steam bath. The menu offers a number of vegetarian options, in addition to some really wonderful lamb stews, all at a very affordable price in an outdoor setting bordering the Rhone. This was so good that we came back two nights later bringing our other two friends PS and MV along so they would not miss out.

In the intervening night we had a luxe meal at l’Arlatan, a lovely restaurant located in the atrium of the hotel of the same name. This is a beautifully updated hotel, with trendy bright colors in the lobby and restrooms so artfully designed that they are almost impossible to locate in the panelled hallway. We ate under wisteria trained high above, excellent “brousse” cheese with spicy tomato sauce, (five of us share) excellent monkfish with spinach and tiny asparagus (four of us order, Ps has a compressed block of chicken with excellent sauce) then three of us order decaf coffee while PS and MV wait and wait and wait for a chestnut tart. I finally leave to meet EJ just as the waiter comes runnng with the dessert.  So – five stars for the food and the locale, but only two for the service. (Were they changing shifts? Who knows?)

I meet EJ at the Wauxhall on George Clemenceau Blvd just opposite the Tourist Bureau. This busy indoor/outdoor place boasts of having been a fixture in Arles since 1771. EJ had not dined, and filled his empty spaces with a bread/cheese/salami platter. I ordered what I thought would be a cup of chocolate flavored coffee, but evidently cafe mocha in Arles means something quite different:. Fortunately EJ was able to help me out with this mountain of ice cream, chocolate mousse, caramel sauce, whipped cream, and cinnamon.

On our last night in Arles I made reservations on the website of another Rick Steves-recommended restaurant, and had no trouble reserving a table for five, though the (out-dated) RS guide told me it would be closed. It was pouring rain when I got to the place, and RS was right. The also-recommended bistro next door was already reserved for a special banquet. Thanks be, the third restaurant on the street was open and empty, so I was able to stand out under the awning in the downpour and re-direct my friends to Le Plaza La Paillotte, a very happy outcome. I found later that this is rated # 8 of 230 restaurants in Arles by Trip Advisor, which only goes to support my feeling that it is almost impossible to blunder into a bad meal in Arles.

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23 Jul 2024

Freeway Free in France: The Torch is Passed

We happen to be in Arles as France prepares for the Olympics to take place in Paris later in the year.

This is a really big deal. The Tourist office has an eight-page magazine detailing all the civic celebrations which will precede and follow the actual passing of the torch. (the gladiator combat and bull fight we saw earlier in the week were part of the celebration) and also includes a detailed map of the route the torch will take through Arles, beginning at the Musee d’Arles Antiques and continuing through the center of town past all the major monuments and ending with a “dance spectacle” at the riverside.

The night before the actual running of the torch offers a free fireworks display, so after dinner EJ and I joined the throngs heading to the Roman Amphitheatre. The spectacle, presented in a completely dark Amphitheatre, involved a lot of torches swung in pattterns by people of indeterminate sex wearing costumes made out of what looked like burlap bags, a juggling unicyclist, a lot of kerosene dripped on the ground and lit in patterns, fireworks, and skyrockets. Wow. Happily the lights came on as we descended from our nosebleed seats.

The next day I walk through the city center and next to the Tourist Office is a street fair, with a community band playing, and a number of booths set up to allow children to practice American football, or play ping pong, or show off their karate moves. A lot of dumb fun for parents and kids.

Fortuitously, our hotel is right on the path of the Olympic torch as it passes through the city, and as I leave to meet our friends for dinner the next evening , I come out the door to see the actual passing of the torch from one former French Olympian to another.

The side of the street are packed with smiling on-lookers. At one point, a young man who is apparently on one of the French teams stopped the parade for a quick interview, surrounded by his teammates and applauding fans.

I understand that Parisians are griping about the upset to normalcy required to prepare the City of LIght for a week of Olympic competition. From down here in the provinces, though, it’s hard to feel bad about something which is making so many people happy.

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