Weird and wonderful in Humboldt

Day 3: Ferndale ― and glory

Heading out from the beach the next morning, the lizard catches a tailwind and we sail like no giant frill-necked lizard has sailed before. After three days and 42 miles of pedaling, we charge into downtown to the adulation of a townful of spectators.

Working the crowd, Beetle steers us into several tight celebratory 360s, but the stress is too much for one of the battered lizard claws, which falls to the street. "Somebody give that guy a hand ― or at least a claw!" shouts the announcer. A member of the support crew hands it back to Beidleman, who holds it aloft as we continue to whir in circles. The crowd cheers even louder. We pump our fists in the air.

Glory. And then we go grab a beer. "Thanks for being heroes to kids who now think that this is a way of life," lauds the race's cofounder, Ferndale artist Hobart Brown, at the awards ceremony. "You've shown them that growing old can be fun," he adds.

And what does the event do for adults? At a raucous post-race dinner at Eureka's Lost Coast Brewery, Moxon explains why she had to build not only a giant tomcat but a giant tomcat that purrs and lifts its tail and sprays. "You have to trap them in the magic," she says of the onlookers along the way.

For three days, we've all been trapped in the magic ― in a big, cosmic, silly, peace-and-love-filled bubble that bounced across Humboldt County, enveloping spectators who have to stop whatever everyday activity they're involved in and laugh and smile and wave. And for cheering on our crazy quest, every one of them is granted a gift: For a few moments, at least, they're young again.