A man needs a base to operate from

Hola amigos.

It's been a while –  and I was reminded of my hiatus when I happened to mistakenly click on this Blogger thing, and noticed it had been a while. It's a vicious circle, doing deals with yourself to agree to babble away on a blog, then slacking off.

And so, the title of this one ... some random neuron firings the other day reminded me of a trip back from Vancouver's famous Wreck Beach, in the passenger seat of a monstrous old '67 sedan driven by a friend of mine.

We'd imbibed heavily that day, rapidly ingesting myriad samples of Wreck's cornucopia of mind-altering delights.

In retrospect, letting my friend drive (or even getting in the car with him) was a bad idea. Especially considering how the circumstances of the divvying-up of the last mushroom-laced chocolate went.

We uncharacteristically decided to share one of these chocolate delights, instead of each purchasing and gobbling one. We knew they packed a punch, and we'd already rendered ourselves fairly inoperative with everything else we'd consumed. In retrospect (again), this seemed oddly not like us, exercising responsible ingesting of hallucinogenics ...

What we didn't take into account was, your average hop-head who makes a stab at baking up mushroom-laced desserts to sell at a nude beach might not always take care to ensure the Psilocybin is equally distributed throughout each chocolate.

My pal got the lion's share, if not all, of the 'shrooms. And as he settled in to take command of the helm of his gigantic car, it all hit him at once. He announced he was far more blazed that he thought he should be ... I responded with a bit of disappointment, that I wasn't anywhere near as blasted.

As we drove down the "back road" from the UBC peninsula to the city, he uttered the titular line.

He then mumbled something about the very existence of the planet we were driving on was shifting, the base was gone ... and certainly, when commandeering a multi-ton vehicle down a road, you do need a base to operate from.

Ahh, the good old days. We somehow (as always) arrived home safely, the car and ourselves unscathed from any mishaps or mayhem.

Don't try this at home, kids. We are trained professionals.