Return-Path: Received: from Data-IO.COM (maunakea) by kryphos.Data-IO.COM (5.0/SMI-SVR4) id AA14652; Mon, 23 Jan 1995 20:48:15 -0800 Received: from inet-gw-2.pa.dec.com by Data-IO.COM (4.1/SMI-4.1mk3) id AA06534; Mon, 23 Jan 95 20:47:56 PST Received: from leggy.zk3.dec.com by inet-gw-2.pa.dec.com (5.65/10Aug94) id AA04565; Mon, 23 Jan 95 20:40:25 -0800 Received: (from Uorb@localhost) by leggy.zk3.dec.com (8.6.9+sb+dnet/8.6.9+dnet) id XAA00515; Mon, 23 Jan 1995 23:40:14 -0500 Received: (from daemon@localhost) by Orb.Nashua.NH.US (8.6.9+sb+dnet/8.6.9+dnet) id XAA18308; Mon, 23 Jan 1995 23:34:56 -0500 Received: (from news@localhost) by Orb.Nashua.NH.US (8.6.9+sb+dnet/8.6.9+dnet) id XAA18306 for kalbo; Mon, 23 Jan 1995 23:34:52 -0500 Path: orb!not-for-mail From: li@kryphos.Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Newsgroups: alt.kalbo Subject: Road Trip! (1 of 5) Date: 24 Jan 1995 04:27:22 -0000 Organization: Duchy of Wabesylvan Obspauk Lines: 252 Message-Id: <9501240424.AA14483@kryphos.Data-IO.COM> Xref: orb alt.kalbo:1442 Precedence: list To: kalbo@Orb.Nashua.NH.US Sender: kalbo-sender@Orb.Nashua.NH.US (Kalbo list maintainer) Content-Type: text Content-Length: 14418 ROAD TRIP!! Grin... it's been a while since the JF and I actually did the whole drive from Seattle to San Diego. The drive from Seattle to Ashland kinda counted, but it was 'just a day trip' with Paul and Ellen for communication and diversion. As usual, the first thing that happened on the way out was that I started looking at and seeing the sky and surrounding land. Just down the plateau from where we lived there was a single framed scene of the far mountain underlaid by the lake with the brown lace of trees in between and the sky was the color of blue iron, the mountain a layering of browns.... I always seem to notice things more when we're free of the everyday. The drive through southern Washington and Oregon is as beautiful as ever, especially down in Southern Oregon when the mountains really begin... and the layering of shadows would be perfect for paper cutouts against a wash of blues and whites or greys and blacks for the sky. I can never capture, quite exactly that blue-black of the distant mountains in the mist of far away clouds. Just north of Portland, the usually controversial billboard only had wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year on one side and a reminder not to drink and drive on the other. No extremist right wing message this time. I always hate driving through Portland. Always too much traffic, too much construction and road maintenance and squeezing through is pretty amazing... We really pushed to drive as far as we could through what sunlight we had. Being so close to the Solstice, the day was really, really short, and what distance and time we could make during the day, especially through the mountains was precious. A blue green neon and a purple neon horses on a night time hillside. christmas lights in the middle of the mountains. They are beautiful in the night time. Zig zagging contrails through a darkening blue sky... a water color sky, John calls it... to the right streaked grey and silver background over black mountains. To the front deep blue shading to beaten gold to rose to fire red over deep purple-blue mountains, three sets peeking through the valley that the pass was cut through. All the rivers that we passed by or drove over were to the tops of their banks. Usually it rains through most of Oregon. Today it was bright and clear and completely dry. The weather sounds like it's going to remain clear and easy. The scattered lights of small cities all in the valleys of the mountains. And the lights of cars flowing along the ribbons of highway like blood cells in the veins of the country. There are a whole lot more trucks driving this time than we've ever seen before. Driving at night is always my favorite part of the really long trip... and this time it's even more fun because the unexpected displays of Christmas lights everywhere. Not just the towns and cities but in the middle of nowhere, they are a delightful surprise. The scene and smoke of pulp mills. The brief glimpse of five movies all playing at the same time at a drive-in. And recognizing each exit and each town as we go past it. We've done this drive so many times it's kinda haunting having memories for almost every exit that exists along the way. We've stopped at almost every single one of them for gas, food, or a bathroom stop. Glimpses of just the first few blocks of the area and then back onto the ribbon of concrete. We've moved through 1200 miles of towns and people as if we were no more than ghosts... sliding through with no more impact than the purchase of a tank of gas and a meal. I took the wheel for a while after lunch through Portland, and we swapped at Salem. I went to sleep for a while as John drove. Then we swapped again when we got nearly to Grant's Pass. The last of the light had finally gone. We swapped at a rest stop. The amusing thing was that I recognized the rest stop from a previous time that we'd stopped. I love night driving best. Especially when the sky is clear, 'cause in the middle of no where the sky is so clear and dark that the sky is just clotted *thick* with stars and starlight. The moon wasn't out this trip, at least so far. And in the Siskiyous all I could see was the blanket of stars and the jagged blackness of the mountains. Another reason I like driving the Siskiyous at night is so that I can't see all the dropoffs off the sides of the road... But it's only fun if the weather is good. Luckily, this time through the weather was crisp, clear and cold. Well, kinda. Just north of Grants Pass we went through a patch of fog. THICK fog. So thick that it left mist on the windows. I ran the windshield wipers, and found out just how much of a mistake it was as the wipers just smeared the windows. There was also absolutely no windshield wiper fluid. Oops. So we did the wise thing and pulled off at Medford. A little driving around turned up John's Auto Parts and we were able to get both wipers and fluid, and we were off again. Through the mountains and passes in the night and with bare, dry roads. It was fun going through all the curves and doing the little things to keep one amused while driving. The road was varied enough that it made things interesting, and while there were a few patches of fog, there wasn't much that got in the way of the mountain driving. Through all that and then we hit the California border. Of the 24 hour trip, 12 hours of it is from the north border of California all the way to L.A. Three hours from LA to San Diego, so 15 of 24 are all in California. California is a big state. We stopped, finally at the city of Mount Shasta, filled the tank, and had dinner at as small family diner. After dinner I brushed my teeth, filled a mug with coffee and we were off again. I don't know why, but the simple feeling of having clean teeth always just makes me feel better and more awake. Of all the weather conditions that I hate the most for driving in, fog is the worst. "Cause it's 'only' fog. Snow and ice are plain hazardous, and if they come down in high enough quantities there is no shame in slowing down or even stopping all together. Rain, if it's heavy enough is the same. But *fog*... something so insubstantial, so completely light and fluffy and... well wimpy. You Can't *stop* because of a little fog.... Well. I almost did. The white stuff, at some times was so thick the headlights made nearly no difference. When it was the worst, I just followed big trucks with heavy fog lights. Mostly I tried tucking in behind various cars. One trio sped by at about 60 mph, and I followed them for a good 80km... but then they turned off, on the most part. I followed a couple of semi's for a while, and then did my part and led a convoy of three semi's for a while, slowing to about 55 to stay with 'em. Then, after about 45 minutes in front of them, two cars came up from behind us, fast. So I sped up as well, and followed them. It was wonderful. They were going about 73mph... 120 kph, and in the white tunnel of fog all I could think of was just how completely and totally insane the lead car was. There were all kinds of hints as to where the road was going, on- coming cars, the curve of the line, and in the valley, the roads were mostly straight anyway, but you couldn't *really* KNOW. The street lights helped, some, but all they could really tell you was where the road was, there would NO warning if there was a dark wreck in the middle of it. None at all. Other than the cars in front of you. The second car peeled of a bare 25 minutes into it, and I had to accelerate rather a lot to get up to where I could see the lead car again. I kept a 3 to 4 second gap between that car and I and half prayed and talked with the person that was driving. The red tail lights through the mist and fog made me feel a little like I was chasing an insanely fast will o' wisp through the countryside. I trusted that I could follow where it led, but if it led wrong, I might be in for a world of hurt. But it stayed true. All the way until the 505 started. Nearly 250 km from where I first picked it up, through fog so thick that I had my windshield wipers on pretty much the whole way. Thing is that I also learned from my will o' wisp. Learned the lay of the road, from the light and the ley lines. And I found myself keeping that completely and totally insane 120 kmh rate, until I really thought about it and realized that there really was NO way I would be able to stop for something unexpected in the road, a deer, an accident, or a stranded motorist. So I slowed down and waited and finally ended up in a flight of about five cars going a mere sixty mph... but at least I knew I was a safe reaction time behind others the short time it took to get to Sacramento, where I traded again with John and took the time to write this and go back to sleep after taking my contacts out. As John said later, "It's not all that restful sleeping while someone else is driving on mountain roads. First you get thrown to one side, and then the other. And when I woke up and looked out, the whole world was *white*." He returned the favor a few hours later. We swapped again in Sacramento. While Sacramento and Stockton were clear, as we headed into the San Joaquin Valley the fog closed in again. I went to sleep to fairly straight roads and woke up with the world nearly entirely white, but for the red taillights of the car right in front of us, and a bare four car lengths in front of that there were the faint taillights of another car. Luckily the San Joaquin Valley is completely flat and the road is entirely straight. But he was doing the same insane fly by other cars and the feeling of where the road *ought* to be that I was. I decided that the only thing I could really do at that point was go back to sleep. So I did. The next time I woke up John was saying, "Oh, hi. We're up the Grapevine." That was only a bare hour north of LA. It was still dark out and I must have shown complete astonishment to John 'cause he shrugged and simply said, "We made good time." Good time. Good time is the 24 hour drive. THIS... it was only 5:30am, 18 and a half hours for something that normally took 21 or 22. We did, however, have one stop in LA that we had to make. Mom has taken up Chinese brush painting, and wanted some nicer paper. There was a mail order shop in Huntington Beach and Dad gave us an address. Our map was a big map with only the major streets on it. We found that the 405 went through Huntington Beach, so we took it there, to the beach, found a little diner for breakfast that had a $2.99 bacon and egg special with Thomas' English muffins. We watched the surf as we ate and figured out something of a game plan for finding the place. Two gas stations had had no idea where it was, the waitress didn't know, nor did her busboy. The manager had no idea, either. When we called an answering machine answered. After breakfast, we tried to find the Chamber of Commerce and circled the block it was supposed to be on about three times. There were two tow truck drivers talking at on of the corners and the third time we went by, one of 'em kinda waved. So we stopped. John was nice and piled out and showed them the address and got instructions on how to get there. Turned out the drivers had really detailed maps of the area, and the address that Dad had given us was off by 100000, at least if it was still in Huntington Beach. We drove over there, and found a beautiful little shop named Oriental Art Supplies in an industrial complex. There was a small gallery and a room filled with supplies and samples that demonstrated the difference between all the various types of paper, paint, and brushes. A lady arrived just as we did, and she was the one that unlocked the stop. It turned out that she was the wife of the artist that ran the shop. We found most of the things that Dad had mentioned, and happily bought it all, and the lady talked with us for a while. After finding that we were from the north, she told us about their son, who had arrived at 5:30 that morning. Instead of calling to tell them to let him in, he started throwing pennies at their bedroom window. She said, "It sounded like a whip. I woke up and looked at my husband, and he wasn't whipping me, so it must have been something else. It took a little while to figure it out..." Turned out that they'd also had an office party the night before and had stayed up until 3am, and there were only going to be three people in the shop that day, so we were lucky that there was anyone there. The store was supposed to be open at 8am, which was when we'd finished breakfast and called them. Laden down with our loot, I took the wheel and we took PCH south, trundling through all kinds of beach towns, seeing surfers on their way to the beach, going through quiet residential areas, and seeing a whole lot of folks shopping for Christmas. John stayed awake to talk me through the towns, and then we hit the 5 again. Five lanes each way and we were flying. I love Southern California freeways, still. Even with all the cars, there's always a way to go a little faster if you want to, and always some place to be safely slower if you want. Just south of San Onofrey a line of CHiP's slowed everything to about 40mph. For a while I wondered why the heck they were doing this? It packed everyone in. Then a brown sedan came hurtling through from behind us with four CHP's swinging all around it. The sedan didn't stop, and the CHiP's kept flying around it. It was interesting to see, especially in the block of cars that the traffic had become. Some pretty insane driving. Anyway, the line started moving again, up to about 70MPH, but the CHP's kept coming through the block and pulling some people over. Most of the cars that I saw on the shoulders were cars that had been weaving pretty hard through the traffic. We got home around 10am. No one was home, but I knew the way in, and we unloaded the car, took showers and then tumbled into bed. I woke up for a little while when Dad checked in on us around 1pm, and went back to sleep and woke again around 3pm when John woke up.