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Marty drops his precious OJ and runs through traffic to get it. Marty takes no breaks except for bathroom and mad dashes (not unlike the one pictured) to supermarkets for juice and fig newtons and yogurt. When I met him, he had just started using Lanacane topical anasthetic on his rear end to numb the pain from riding all day. "A poor man's viagra!" he exclaims.

Marty scared the hell out of everyone we met. People have a hard time dealing with that much freedom and energy. In the evening, at Humbug Mtn SP, a bunch of other bikers were also treated (or subjected) to Marty's hilarity as he spun tales of adventure and treasure and close scrapes with death. My goal in sticking with Marty all day was to see if he could maintain the same energy all day long. When I woke at 6 the next day, Marty was long gone.