It all started with a faint voice coming from the sofa: �I�ve got a hankerin� to visit Missions� she said as we were both watching the tube.

It had been a month since our motorcycle-adventure-turned-medical-adventure (for more details, read our account of the 2005 Three Flags Classic) and I guess we were still pretty down about the whole experience. Sure, I had to endure an angioplasty procedure and will for evermore be considered a �cardiac patient� or one who has �coronary artery disease�. Of course, those things were true before the adventure but now they could not be denied since the discovery of an artery which was 90% blocked. It wasn�t the money, either, although my thinking about the most expensive places has changed over the course of the summer. After June, I thought London was a pretty expensive place to visit, but London doesn�t hold a candle to a Cardiac Care Unit in Coeur D�Alene, Idaho.

I have learned something about medical insurance. For some silly reason, I thought an ambulance ride to the emergency room, then another ambulance ride, albeit a helicopter ambulance, to a Coronary Care Unit as well as the ensuing angioplasty procedure would be considered �emergency treatment�. Wrong. Just the care to get me stabilized is considered emergency care. I guess they have determined the subsequent procedures probably would have been required anyway even if not in an emergency situation. Fortunately, my PPO covered 80% of the $40K bill and I have an annual cap of out of pocket expenses of four grand. Still, four grand for two nights in CCU tops our stay in Victoria Station by a landslide. But those points were not what put us in our melancholy mood. It was the fact that an adventure we had planned the entire year ended with three days riding in a U-Haul truck riding on what I consider the devil himself: Interstate 5.

It was now October and winter was looming. Sure, we live in Southern California and most of the country has much worse winters that we do. Still, last year we had 37 inches of rain and, while my wife Nancy is a real trooper when it comes to riding in weather, the fact is opportunities for adventures start to drop off. As soon as she mentioned �Missions�, I perked up. Visiting California Missions to us is what �Ride to Eat� is to others: a reason for the ride. When we ride together we both get something out of it. I get the ride and she gets to play tourist. Amazingly, the only six years of my (so called) adult life when I did not have a motorcycle is the period of time when we traveled the least. This point has not been wasted on either of us.

Nancy pulled out her Mission book and decided she would like to visit one in or near San Jose . I look at a map and find three: one in Santa Cruz , one in Santa Clara and one in Fremont . I mention to Nancy that, if we stay in Marina , about halfway between Monterey and Santa Cruz , we could possibly hit all three on Saturday. She nods and I book a room.

Getting out of town takes more time than either of us want. Finally, we are rolling about 11 am . My concerns about getting through L.A. traffic on Friday are not well founded and we get through without much delay. We take our typical route, North on I-405 to I-10 West to PCH through Malibu . We then pick up Hwy 101 at Camarillo and follow it north of Santa Barbara where we peel off to Hwy 1 through Lompoc (that�s Lom-poke, thank you very much!). It�s getting late in the afternoon and the cool winds pick up. We notice a thick cloud bank on the coast as we approach Pismo Beach . We decide in San Luis Obispo , as the sun is beginning to set, to take Hwy 101 to Monterey to save some time. After all, as much as I love the coast highway, particularly between Morro Bay and Big Sur , it�s not very exciting at night (DAMHIK). We pull into our motel about 8:30 . We spend the next hour or so getting warm but have no trouble getting to sleep.

� Eight O�Clock ! You�re kidding!� Of course, I prefer to hear the words �I love you� first thing in the morning, but I guess after a four hundred mile day, sleeping 10 hours straight what I got shouldn�t be that surprising. There were only two things I didn�t plan very well for this trip. First of all, I should have checked the Laguna Seca schedule. Hotel rates really jump up whenever there are races in town and this weekend was no exception. I have no idea what was on the calendar. I just know it was cars. Big deal.

The other thing was that I really didn�t look at the football schedule before booking the weekend. As it turns out, my beloved USC Trojans were playing Notre Dame this Saturday. This required some quick thinking on my part. Time to start negotiating. I suggest to Nancy that we hit a mission before the game and try to get one in afterwards. I see a little disappointment, but she knows that the only sports I follow is football and only two teams at that (the Dallas Cowboys being the other one). She agrees but I know that I�m going to have to make it up to her. That old saying �Love means you don�t have to say you�re sorry� doesn�t mean you can get away without saying �Thanks, honey. I owe you.�

We decide to visit the Santa Clara mission (http://www.californiamissions.com/cahistory/santaclara.html) Saturday morning. I didn�t realize it was on the campus of Santa Clara University . Actually, Santa Clara University was built on mission grounds and founded in 1851. It was hard to figure out where the mission ended and the university started. What also made this an interesting trip is that this was Santa Clara�s Open House weekend. One of the disappointments of this mission is that the facility looked much like a regular Catholic church. After all, there wasn�t even a gift store for crying out loud! Even though it�s drizzling a little bit, it�s not enough to make me miss the rain suit I left back at the motel. We get back just in time for the kickoff. 34-31 won by the Trojans on the last play!. What a game!

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After the game, I called the mission in Santa Cruz to find out they closed at 4 pm (it is now nearly five). More disappointment on Nancy �s face. �Can I buy you dinner on Cannery Row?" I ask. She gleams and says �Sure�. One more time I regale on what a lucky guy I am. After all, I�m married to the woman who thinks owning a silver motorcycle is a good idea because it goes with duct tape.

We cruise Cannery Row and find a good parking spot. We find a restaurant on the water and we both order a bowl of (drum roll, please) clam chowder. There are some who think that if I�m ever within 200 miles of Monterey , I have to go there and have clam chowder. I have no idea where they get that impression.

The next morning we are up, but not out very early. I take my time checking over the bike (air, oil and a slight adjustment on the rear shock). We finally pull away about 10 am . The day is absolutely gorgeous. It turns into probably one of the most spectacular days I�ve ever spent on the coast. The traffic is fairly light, although for some reason, I seldom notice traffic at all. I guess it�s because how easy the RT gets around them. We pull up behind a sport bike. Probably one of the worst things that can happen to a sport bike enthusiast that doesn�t involve an organ donation card is getting passed by a Beemer. Obviously we are moving faster than the sport bike, otherwise we wouldn�t have caught up with it. However, as soon as we get behind him, he starts riding more aggressively passing everything in sight any way he can.

We stop for lunch at the Ragged Point Inn (http://www.raggedpointinn.com). This is a very relaxing place to have a sandwich. This time we actually find out what the room rates are and are shocked to find out that they are more reasonable than when we stayed at the Piedras Blancas Motel a few miles south a few years ago. For those who know both places also know there is no comparison between the two facilities. I take a mental note. I�m sure we will be staying here sometime in the near future.

We leave about 1 pm and I�m a little concerned that we won�t make it to my �make up� mission, La Purisima (http://www.lapurisimamission.org), in Lompoc (that�s Lom-poke). We ride, how should I say it, �efficiently� most of the way. In the line of cars on Hwy 101 going south, there are a couple of Porsche Carrera 4s who left Ragged Point about the same time we did. As powerful as these cars are, they have more difficulty negotiating their way through traffic than we do. We arrive at La Purisima with plenty of time to spare. This mission is the most restored, percentage wise, of all the missions and it looks it. The grounds are expanse. This mission really looks like one. It has livestock representative of when the mission was an operating farm as well as groves with samples of all the plants that were used on a daily basis. We even went inside a tee pee! We easily could have spent a half day there. Although the facility is open until 5 pm , we find that the gift store closes at 4 (we�re at their front door a quarter past four ) so we don�t get a souvenir from this mission either! Drats!

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We leave La Purisima and ride south via Hwy 246 to Hwy 1 where it eventually connects with Highway 101 just north of Santa Barbara . We work our way south, essentially backtracking our outbound route except we prefer to avoid the 405 between I-10 and LAX in the afternoons and evenings. There�s something about lane sharing that takes some of the fun out of the trip for Nancy so we try to avoid it whenever possible. Hwy 110 has a HOV lane even though we have to go right downtown to pick it up.

We reach Long Beach before it starts to rain. We�ve had pretty good luck considering the original forecast had us looking at rain the entire day. I finally put my raingear on in Long Beach and enjoy a dry and warm ride home. Nancy's not quite as lucky since her new waterproof pants I got her for her birthday did not arrive in time for the trip. We get home just before a hail storm hits south Orange County . We have to ride in it (in the car of course) to pick up our pups from the Pet Lodge. Nancy remarks that we are lucky the gift store at La Purisima was closed, otherwise we would have been riding when the hail storm hit. It is hard sometimes to know when to count your blessings.

A great weekend and a great 1,000 mile ride.