Greetings, Blogbots. I hope you are well. I am blogging to you from the lovely town of Rancho Cucamonga. At least, I think that is where I am. Can I really be sure? The map says this is where I am, but I’m feeling a little out of body, which I think is normal for a person on a road trip with many detours, wrong turns, and back tracks. All I can say is, thank you for a patient GPS lady who never yells at me even when I fail to follow her directions.
So far, I’ve spent a night parked at a casino, a street in Venice, a residential neighborhood, a grocery store parking lot, and a rest stop on I-15. The only location that gave me pause was the street in Venice, parked between two campervans that had clearly not moved in some time. I’m guessing only street cleaning day forces them to vacate their prime location just blocks from the beach. Does parking near the beach make up for living in a car? Maybe when you are young. If you are under 40, it’s a bohemian lifestyle. If you are over 60, it’s down and out in Venice, California.
The weather in Tucson was just getting hot when I left. I drove west in lovely sunshine and hit a wall of gray clouds about 30 miles east of San Diego. The clouds followed me north. Venice was cold and gray. I drove up the PCH to Oxnard and Ventura, dodging rain drops. On Day4 I walked out on the Huntington Beach pier, huddled in my jacket and warm hat, hoping it the clouds would blow out to sea with the oil tankers. On Day 5, I headed northeast, desperate for heat and light. On Day 6, I spent about five minutes in Las Vegas, long enough to know I hope I never have to go there again. Today is Day 7.
What have I learned? First, I learned it’s okay to drive in circles, to get lost, to take an exit to avoid traffic jams or just to see where it goes. It doesn’t matter where I go when I have no firm destination and loose timetables. Second, wild camping in the city means I can’t heat water on a butane stove to make my coffee. Starbucks coffee is not great, hot or cold, but you do what you have to do. Third, meeting friends for food will eventually make me sick, fat, and poor. Finally, I learned that going up in elevation is not good for my head.
I learned other stuff, too, but I’ll save those tidbits for next week. This is just to let you know, I am alive, somewhere in the low desert suburbs of southern California. I hope you all have a good week.
