Rich People Trail(RPT, not to be confused with RTP, where I sometimes go to eat Buffalo meat), Sunday 7:11am.
We're in Los Gatos, a veritable beacon for the well-heeled. We're driving through the tony downtown area to get to the trail entrance. There are no strip malls here. These are boutiques nestled amongst tastefully adorned single-family homes (which cost as much as 5 or 6 single families make in a year).
AP spies a parking spot, and wrestles his '94 Accord between a 2005 BMW 740 and a brand-new Volvo S60. As the vehicle shudders to a halt, passerby and joggers look warily on. The silent W2 sensors have gone off, and the locals are nervous. It probably doesn't help that AP is wearing a knitted cap and dark glasses, giving him a I'm-making-a-withdrawal-at-the-711 look. He's just trying to stay warm; AP wears his hair short, and the morning is chilly. But the townsfolk don't know that. He may as well have "Blossom Hill Kidz" or "Thug Life" tattooed on his forehead.
But I gotta tell ya, the trail was beautiful. Very neatly maintained, free of motorized traffic, and very convenient. I was wondering why all the other joggers had lattes and identical golden retrievers in tow; it turns out that there are espresso kiosks on most mile markers and you can rent your very own accessory dog at the other end of the trail! Nice! Apparently there's also an option to hire throngs of adoring fans near the 10km mark to cheer you on to greater heights.
One of these days, when me and five or six families scrape together our combined life savings, we may be able to live on these hallowed cobblestone streets. Or at least in a nice designer refrigerator box beneath the bridge...