Date: Tue, 4 Mar 1997 10:49:58 -0500 From: Charlie Ford Subject: From Paradise to Extravangance After leaving David Robinson at Pepperdine on Saturday I moved on northward along highway #1. I eventually came to Highway 101, which runs a bit further inland than Hwy. #1. the difference between the two roads is pretty much self explaining. #1 has the ocean and some beautiful coastal scenery and 101 drops and climbs its way through farmland and wine country. On the #1 I was feeling the affects of the winds coming off the ocean and they were pretty strong and I was tired of fighting the wheel. I found Highway 101 to be quite pleasurable. The wind is blocked off by the mountains, and the land is beautiful on both sides of the road. The land takes a dramatic turn in scenery many times between Pepperdine in Malibu and Gilroy, California. which is almost directly east of Santa Cruz. As I drove along I passed through mountain passes and fell into valleys surrounded by round top mountains covered with plush green grass. I passed through the cities of San Luis Obispo, and Santa Maria not seeing much traffic at all. I stopped at a rest stop and used the facilities and while there had a hitchhiker come up and ask for a ride. He asked how far I was going and I explained that I could haul him a few miles further than he already was. One thing I have learned in my 40 years is that you never say exactly where you plan to land to a hitch hiker. They always seem to end up expecting you to foot their transport all the way to the destination you proclaim. Plus if you get five miles down the road and decide you don't like them or the way they smell you can always drop them out explaining that is the extent of your journey without a fight. I know that sounds deceiving but to be honest hitch-hikers these days are not like they were twenty years ago. This guy, who looked to be all of 20 said he was going to San Francisco. He said his name was Turtle, I didn't like that much either. If a fella wants me to haul him ways he needs to give me his real name, and I don't think his Ma named him Turtle, but I reminded myself I was in California, one of the stranger states of the US and we proceeded north. As we were loading to leave another guy came over to the bus and asked if he could also ride along. After a moment of thought I said yes, but cocked the hammer on my buck knife just in case I needed it. He said his name was Larry and he was only going about 20 miles up the road. He was a skinny sort of wiry kind of guy and in my analysis I could have whipped both of them with my hands behind my back so I felt safe enough about the trip. Hell I needed some company so I said "get in". Within five minutes after leaving the rest stop they were both asleep and so there I was driving along by myself again. I dropped them both off in San Luis Obispo and proceeded on my way. I gave them a can of peanuts to split between them because they both said they hadn't had anything to eat since early morning. I probably wouldn't have eaten the peanuts anyway because they tend to give me heartburn. At least I did my deed for the day and maybe that would create some good karma for me along my route. I drove on thankful to be truly alone once again. at least I didnšt have to keep one eye on the passengers and the other on the road. I could concentrate totally on the road that lay ahead. I drove all the way to Gilroy, which sounds to me like it ought to be a town in Texas rather than here in California. I found a truckstop and settled for the night. I crawled in my rack immediately after arriving, turned on my little 6 inch TV, watched Schindlers List and fell asleep. I slept like a babe in swaddling clothing. The wind gently rocked the Mothership, which gently rocked me to sleep. It was a bit chilly in this neck of the woods, at least more-so than Malibu. I woke the next morning and wanted some breakfast. I was down to my last bill so I got out a bag of change that I have had since leaving home and decided it was time to cash it in, at least part of it. I counted it all out and had it transferred to paper money, it fed me and bought my gas for the next two days. Another ŗtip˛, at the end of each day, empty your pocket change into one place and leave it there until you need it. You will pleasantly surprised when you count it out and see just how much you have saved just in silver and copper. of course when you go to the store and start counting out all this change the guy behind the counter sort of begins to hate you, not realizing that you are saving them time by not having to go the bank. I had some breakfast, bought me some gas, and headed out for Santa Cruz where I was to meet up with Kyle Wade. Kyle had let me know earlier in the week that he and his wife were going to be out of town on Sunday and wouldn't be in till later in the evening and because it was morning I had some time to kill. I picked up Highway 129 west through the mountains and a little town called Freedom and eventually came into Santa Cruz. Santa Cruz is nice and probably has more busses per square mile than anyplace I have seen thusfar, they are everywhere! I would estimate that of all of the vehicles I saw that day, ten percent of them were VW busses. There were lowriders, high riders, mid riders and no riders. There were old drivers, young drivers, golf drivers, and mad drivers. This place was covered in VWs and VW shops, at one of which Kyle helps to operate. Santa Cruz is a experience in culture. I parked my bus in a music store parking lot, opened the sliding door and people watched most of the afternoon. I saw spiked hair of all of the colors of the rainbow, shaved heads of mostly pale white scalp, and folks with hair to their waist. There were grunge people, gangbangers, trend setters, and trend breakers. I sat and listened to the Allman Brothers, ate some snack food, and had a helluva good time here in the hometown of strange. People watching in Santa Cruz is pretty common. The different strokes folks are the reason the tourist come here I think. Mousse has curbed the hair product market, that along with coloring. combs and brushes are probably the least selling item here, but then maybe deodorant gives it some competition for the low spot. I called Kyle later in the evening and he told me a spot by his shop that I could crash safely for the night. I drove there and lay down for the evening, reflecting on my day of new culture. I dreamed dreams associated with weirdness and woke up with my hair standing straight up in spike fashion. I quickly found my brush and starting trying to look my old self. Kyle is a great guy. His hop was a buzz early in the morning. Folks standing outside waiting to get in. He would ask if they had an appointment and if they didnšt they just had to wait until they could be gotten to. he showed me around the first chance he got. I saw parts neatly stacked in bins throughout the place. The mechanic in the back was listening to Hootie and the Blowfish as he worked on his first engine of the day. it was an entertaining place. I wish I could have spent more time with Kyle, but he was working and I was vacationing so to speak. a working manšs schedule takes precedence over a vacationing manšs schedule. that is just the rule. I eased on toward San francisco, once again driving on Highway #1 along the coast. bad mistake. The wind was coming in at about 60 mile an hour gust and moved my bus around the road like I was drunk. I stopped often and drove slow. if I would have gone much faster I probably would have lost control and plummeted over one of the many cliffs that edge the west side of the highway. Highway #1 between Santa Cruz and San Francisco is a spectacular drive. it weaves itšs way through mountainous coastline with views that are as pretty as I have seen. The white cliffs drop down to nice sandy stretches of beach. the eastern side of the road is covered in thick Redwood forest and reminded me of places in south Georgia where the evergreen is king. there are many places to pull over and listen to the rage of the surf as it makes landfall. I tried to stop at each of these places because the wind was requiring it of me. Finally I reached San Francisco, and that is another post all together. I will have to be here for a few weeks so I can replenish my money. I will be in touch. Thanks for tolerating my ramblings. Charlie Ford "79" Transporter, dressed for the road The Mothership The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and Search for the Beginning of Wind". www.armory.com/~y21cvb/charlie/charlie.html "Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"