Shit, meet fan.
Like most Angelenos, I’ve been watching news of the fires with increasing horror all week. And like too many of us, too many of my friends have lost everything in a literal puff of smoke.
But when concerned friends and relatives would ask, I would confidently tell them we were in a safe area far from the danger; the only thing we had to worry about was someone starting a fire in the Hollywood Hills above us.
Guess what happened next.
In a matter of minutes, we went from praying for others to grabbing everything we could before joining a long line of fellow evacuees on the gridlocked streets of Hollywood as ash fell around us from the growing glow just blocks away.
It took us two-and-a-half hours to get to an overpriced hotel three miles away. Something I could done it in 20 minutes on a bike.
And would have if I didn’t have a wife and dog to worry about.
But we were safe, and watched on the news as firefighters made a heroic stand that literally saved our entire neighborhood.
By yesterday morning we were back in our home, nervously watching the winds as we unpacked everything we took in haste the night before.
Then came the false alarm evacuation alert ordering us to leave once again, only to be cancelled 20 minutes later with an “oopsie” alert explaining we got it in error for a fire far away.
Which oddly did not seem to lower my blood pressure or pulse rate one iota.
Now I’m completely exhausted, physically and emotionally, and worried sick about the friends we’ve yet to hear from.
And just this side of tears if my wife looks at me the wrong way. Or the dog, for that matter.
So I hope you’ll forgive me if I miss yet another post today. I just don’t have it in me to write about bikes right now.
I’ll be back on Monday, as usual, to catch up on anything we’ve missed, barring any further disasters, natural or otherwise.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head.
And hope this is all over when I finally wake up, whenever that may be.
