I know that no one cares about which day we did what, so I am starting here in the middle of our current adventure.
We have become card carrying military non-trespassers.
We wanted to ride though Camp Pendleton so waited in line for over half an hour to get a pass to do so. They went through a thorough interview asking our social security number, name, birth date, citizenship, and we handed over our drivers license. Then they took our fingerprints and a photo, read us the rules of the road, and issued this laminated ID card that we must present at the entrance gate and carry at all times. For some reason they could only get one of my fingerprints as the others did not work on the computerized finger print thingy.
Today we took the ride through the Grounds on a Bike designated route that were NOT to veer off of. There was not a lot of scenery on the route, but the shoulders were nice and wide and the drivers DID share the road with us when the SHARROWS sign came up.
Susan was relieved to discover that we would not be thrown into the brig if we failed to follow a rule.
I was glad there was a ‘real’ hand washing place outside of the port potty.
I have titles this post “Serious” because I rode in a very serious mode. The previous evening we were in the lounge with several Marines who had been injured at war — Wounded Warriors. It was sobering then to see these young men who had had their lives changed forever when they lost a limb (or two) and were now in a wheel chair, on a prosthetic leg, without an arm for an eye, and had injuries we could not see (PTSD). I had a hard time with this as we say in the lounge. What a price war takes.
The ride was just as sobering as we passed through the gate with one of the marines holding (what looked like) an assault weapon, passed signs for Tank Crossing or Troop Crossings and shooting ranges, had camouflaged army trucks and military tanks pass by us, and saw the “ambulance pick up” arrows near the Camp Pendleton Military Hospital.
It ALL made for a very thoughtful and serious ride for me.
I have titles this post “Serious” because I rode in a very serious mode. The previous evening we were in the lounge with several Marines who had been injured at war — Wounded Warriors. It was sobering then to see these young men who had had their lives changed forever when they lost a limb (or two) and were now in a wheel chair, on a prosthetic leg, without an arm for an eye, and had injuries we could not see (PTSD). I had a hard time with this as we say in the lounge. What a price war takes.
The ride was just as sobering as we passed through the gate with one of the marines holding (what looked like) an assault weapon, passed signs for Tank Crossing or Troop Crossings and shooting ranges, had camouflaged army trucks and military tanks pass by us, and saw the “ambulance pick up” arrows near the Camp Pendleton Military Hospital.
It ALL made for a very thoughtful and serious ride for me.
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