111th Capay Valley Almond Festival

by Kirby Fann

Dirty Bikers Diaries 21

Dirty Biker Diaries 21: The 111th annual Capay Valley Almond Festival has officially begun. For weeks, there were sheets of rain and strong wind gusts forecasted for today. What a predicament to lose your precious petals before you’ve had a chance to bloom into your full potential. The plight of the almond indeed.

Somehow, the clouds have retreated and have taken their gloomy fortunes with them today. The winter sun shines brighter than yesterday and beams its warmth directly onto the road ahead of us, unfurling like a red carpet of asphalt.

I take in a deep breath under my helmet and let the rustic valley air fill my lungs until I can smell in color.

The V-twin engine growls as it comes to life and all 107 cubic inches thunder down highway 16.

Seemingly distraught that it must stay trapped between the lines.

A confined animal but this ain’t no rat in a cage.

The hawks and the buzzards sail high above us like little feathered kites.

Like freedom.

I am mesmerized by emerald hues set tight against a perfect backdrop of the bluest skies you’ve ever seen as we make our way to Esparto’s VFW. The true hidden gem of the Capay Valley Almond Festival. Home cooked meals, stiff drinks, live music, and the most wonderful people. Honoring the brave so that we can ride free. It doesn’t get much better than that. Life on the back of a motorcycle is a life with all of your senses awakened, as if for the very first time.

Road Trips’ parking lot is filled to the brim although the crowd is not near as large as usual. I suspect the ill-forecasted weather is to blame but we certainly don’t complain.

Classic cars and motorcycles line every open corner.

Square bodies, step sides, and hatchbacks.

Choppers and baggers and glittering fenders.

I dare someone to name a better duo than classic cars and motorcycles.

Sounds like my childhood.

The Fryed Brothers Band plays old tunes and ballads about bikers.

The tangy sound of the fiddle carries through the most eclectic crowd I’ve ever seen.

The playful vibe here is electric and almost tangible.

People from all walks of life gather together.

Leave your corporate jobs and looming deadlines at the door.

Crusty old bikers with gray beards and faded leather vests mingle with the next generation of bikers searching for their foothold in this strange, modern world.

Sweet little families and cattle ranchers dance and sway to the rhythm of the band.

Carhartts and leathers come together.

The young and the old gather for good tunes and good company.

I scan the crowd and silently send love to each person here. I love our differences, our similarities, our hopes and our fears.

I love this life I’ve worked so hard to build.

Someone recognizes me as the author of Dirty Biker Diaries and I am deeply moved by the compliment. Maybe embarrassingly so. It is a harrowing task to bare your soul for the world to read. But it is a tremendously rewarding task to hear that some of you find joy in these ramblings.