Chico! Wooo-ooooo!

So Tar instant messaged me on Friday afternoon, told me to pack an overnight bag for hot weather, and to be ready to go Saturday morning. She decided we should get out of town to celebrate my birthday, which is this coming Friday, the 19th. I kind of ruined all the fun by making her tell me where we were going, so I could plan the trip according. I am kind of a logistics monster, and I can't help myself.

You see, last Christmas she adopted a goat at Farm Sanctuary on my behalf. Farm Sanctuary rescues animals from factory farms, nurses them back to health, and gives them a nice farm to while out the rest of their days without fear of becoming dinner. They have two farms, one in upstate New York, the other in Orland in California's Sacramento Valley.

The Orland farm is over 300 acres, nestled in the rolling hills of the valley wall near a small mesa, with creek cutting across the cow pasture. It's roughly three and half hours away from San Francisco. That means it's peaceful and rural and idyllic and I could live out there. I've been there a few times now, for their annual "Feed the Turkeys" vegan Thanksgiving dinner. There's an impressive quietude there. It sounds corny, but a fella could really start feeling like one with nature and it's cycles in a place like that.


A cow homey

That's all to say, I really like it out there, so a trip to Farm was a great birthday present. And I got to relive my college days in nearby Chico.

We rolled out of the Bay Area early Saturday morning, like 8 AM. Traffic was light, which is good because Californians do not know how to drive. I've been trying a new thing, what with gas prices so high. I lock the cruise control in at the speed limit. It's really bizzare to have 85% of the traffic going a much faster than I am, but there's less drama and congestion. I don't know, maybe I am getting old... maybe I've had a few too many close calls... maybe I think because in the past 5 years I've driven about 100,000 miles, including two times across the US that my time is up... it's just not safe to speed.

There's something going on in our culture. That's the understatement of the decade, but anyway, just about every car commercial emphasizes power, performance, and Fun FUn FUN. Led Zeppelin soundtracks cars powersliding across wet pavement or blasting through the Utah desert. NASCAR is second only to the NFL in popularity. Most drivers seem to see the freeway as some sort of Indy race that you win by passing close, strategically changing lanes, letting the other guy know he's going to slow by tailgating. The California roads are really dangerous; however I can assure that vast stretches of our great land are asshole free.

We got to the Farm midday, and it was effing gee dee hot. We took a quick tour. In some ways, being there on a random Saturday was better than the crowded Thanksgiving event because the tour guide was able to tell is some of the stories behind the animals. There were less animals out tho, because they were all trying to avoid the blazing hot rock in the sky. I've been a vegan for four years now, so I've heard a lot of the horror stories, seen the movies, and it's always a bummer to hear how cruel us humans can be. But... It's incredibly uplifting to see how happy these animals are now. The cows lie in the sun, the pigs splash around in the pond, a kitty cat naps with the bunny rabbits...Have you ever had a turkey, or any other bird, walk up to you and request a pet like a kitty?


A piggy homey avoiding the sun, smiling from a belly rub


Tar pets a turkey

I met my bro Alfalfa. I may have mentioned that it was really hot, so the goats were keeping it pretty mellow. Alfalfa liked the extra attention, and he seems like the kind of dude I could have as a pet. Goats are great, although we were told they are quite mischevious.


Alfalfa, my special goat homey


A boy and his goat

After broing off with Alfalfa, Tar and I headed to Chico, in search of a motel that was near downtown and had a pool. Chico doesn't really have quality lodging, unless you want to stay on the extreme north or south sides of the college town, and the rooms book up fast. Motel #1 was booked up. #2 only had a smoking room #3 was booked, so we settled for the slightly seedy Thunderbird Lodge. To Ukiah types this name evokes the seediest of all motor lodges out on south South State Street past the airport, where people don't stay so much as they live there, selling drugs or fixing their cars on the motel lawn. To Chico-ans, the Thunderbird is a curious oddity on the edge of downtown; nobody knows anybody that has stayed there and there's just something weird about the place. I am pretty sure they are ownded by the same people, but none of the employees could verify that. Both the Chico and Ukiah Thunderbirds are trad, like they were built in the 1950's, and neither has been renovated since then, I'd wager.

Our room was quiet, mostly because of the cinder block walls. The wall paper was pealing, the bathroom tile linoleum need to be replaced, random screws in the walls suggested that art had once adorned them. The door had been kicked in at one point. But the TV was brand new. And there was a pool.

First, we decided to go on a bike ride to earn our dip in the pool. We were smart and brought our bikes to enjoy Chico's flat landscape. We rode through the empty Chico State campus and I showed Tar all the highlights like the creek running through campus and my old dorm room. Then we rode over to Bidwell Park, which is the nations 2nd largest municipal park (Central Park in NYC is #1). In all the years I lived in Chico, I never once went on a bike ride in Bidwell. I effed up. Bidwell is rad. In fact, a casual afternoon bike ride through Bidwell alone is worth the three hour drive to Chico.

Tired and sweaty, we changed into our swim gear for a dip in the pool. The beer cans and cigarrettes in the poolside ash tray were not encouraging. I dipped my legs in, when Tar saw a used band aid stuck to an inflatable pool toy that was floating by. We skipped the swim and went to dinner instead.

After some yummy pizza, we started our evening out with $3 teas at Panama's. The giant glasses start with shots of vodka, gin, rum, and triple sec like a Long Island Ice Tea but Panama's has a menu with 30 different variations on that theme. Tar and I each had two and we were feeling pretty good walking out of there.

Next stop was Normal Street Bar. I used to live across the street from Normal St. and they were always good to me. It had some punk on the jukebox and the crowd was just swordy enough to be bearable. And they served the "Poor Boy Special" which was a shot of Mad Dog 20/20 fortified wine and a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon for $1.25. I promised Joe I would get a Poor Boy Special on his behalf. Tar and I walked in and it was unreal. It was like every jock, frat boy and meat head in a 250 mile radius crammed into the bar. There was some intense Godsmack/Staind type jock rock farting very loudly from the jukebox. We were totally the oldest people in there, and we're not that old. We stayed long enough to use the bathroom.

Dejected, we walked to Duffy's, a Chico favorite. Duffy's Tavern is like many an Irish pub that you might find in the Inner Richmond, but it's also been a refuge for people like me to escape the people like those at Normal St. The crowd was a bit older. I felt comfortable there, but it was just kind of boring, so we made one more attempt at bar hopping. We went next door to Mr. Lucky's. This place opened up after I left Chico, but I had some great times there cutting a rug with Smith, Fritch, Trevor, Joe, etc. during our many trips up to Chico in the early 2k's. Tonight however, a handful of ugly chicks swayed on the dance floor while a suspiciously underage looking couple made out in the corner. That shit was D-E-D ded, so we called it a night.

Chico was fun, but it made me feel very old. I'd like to go there with posse of homies with bikes so we can go for a nice ride and not feel so old.

I left out a bunch of stuff like the fact that we rode our bikes downtown that night, or the 1965 Mustang that Tar almost bought on the spot, or the good food we ate at Grilla Bites, or the English Bulldog boxers I bought. All in all tho, I had a great trip and Tar is the best for sneaking me out of town.