“Here we are!” Monty proclaimed enthusiastically. “Like I said, right around the corner. I knew we’d get here.” Isabella grumbled a sarcastic congratulations from her carrier. Rupert still lay on his back in the crate beside her. He yawned sleepily and stretched his front legs up and over his head. He was the only one who had enjoyed the long winding ride through the forest. All the sweeping turns had rocked him like a baby in a cradle. By the time we’d located the far-straighter thoroughfare of Highway 49’s northern route, Rupert had fallen into a deep snoring trance. The van entered Nevada City’s downtown area and proceeded slowly up Broad Street. The sidewalks were packed with pedestrians, many decked from head to toe in colorful skintight cycling gear. Mobile vendors worked the street corners hawking all manner of race-related clothing and memorabilia. A variety of T-shirts and bumper stickers were on offer, along with a wide range of noisemaking devices designed to provide encouragement to passing riders during the race.
