Back when I was a young spring chicken, my Grandfather convinced me to go on a bicycle trip with him, a 1700-mile loop around the inside of California. I was hesitant because frankly it seemed intimidating, but he had his ways of being persuasive. It’s been roughly 25 years since then, and a few years after we lost the old man. I have enough stories about that trip to fill a book, most likely, except that I’m not sure there’d be a story arc to make it all work. Someday, perhaps. Last night the trip came to mind and I was sharing some of the little stories with my younger son. One I didn’t bring up is the one I wanted to share here for today. It involves a beer. And…