Santa Clarita is my favorite town in the Tour of California. Why? It’s the simple things.
Last night when we arrived, I was so destroyed, the only things I cared about were, in order, a room key, a long hot shower, and a pillow. If somebody had dropped a million bucks on the sidewalk in front of me, I would not have had the energy to bend over and pick it up. I skipped dinner for the 2nd straight night and crashed. (NOTE: the Hyatt Valencia gets deductions for lousy water pressure in the shower)
Sometime in the middle of the night, I vaguely remember hearing a few vague “clang” sounds. Not a clear sound, like a bell; more like an aluminum baseball bat connecting with a ball.
This morning I woke up early, feeling surprisingly good. I headed downstairs in search of a hot mug of tea. Upon walking out the front door of the Hyatt, I discovered that the finish line of the race is literally at the hotel. I don’t mean near the hotel, I mean at the hotel. Last night we couldn’t find a parking spot amongst all the big rigs and box trucks carrying tents, staging, sound, etc, so Fred stuck the motor home over in the far corner of the parking lot next to a huge garbage dumpster. This morning, I discovered that we don’t even have to move the motor home to do the race, because the garbage dumpster is now obscured from view by the stage, which is erected right on the finish line. The occasional clangs I heard in my sleep last night were race contractors erecting staging and tents outside my room, six floors down.
At this point, anything that makes a day even marginally easier is more valuable than platinum to me.
And that’s the very simple reason why I love Santa Clarita.