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Today was an
education for the Old Blogger:
Lesson 1: Don't
assume because a road is on a google map that it is the road you
should be taking. As we left the Calistoga County Fairgrounds this
morning, Gerty, our faithful (and sometimes helpful) GPS, directed me
to turn onto highway 128 going south from Calistoga. Now, yesterday,
when we came to Calistoga, we found highway 128 to the north to be
beautiful, but in very bad repair. The thought of driving some 50
miles or so on bad road sounded quite repugnant to me. And although
the map showed that to be the shortest route to our next destination,
I had some prior knowledge to which Gerty was not privy: i.e., this
road is not fun to drive with a camper due to the potholes and sundry
other irritations.
Lesson 2: On the
other hand, Gerty may have had some information to which I was not
privy: i.e., the road that I found on Google Maps, was perhaps, even
worse. Oh, the pavement was smoother and all, but what I didn't know
(and Gerty may have a leg up on me here) is that the road is
exceedingly winding and steep, as in 16% grade in places and 11% in
others. If you are not familiar with the rating of road grades, 16%
means that the road rises 16' for every 100' of horizontal distance
it covers. Think of the steepest slope you have ever climbed on an
interstate highway. If memory serves, the interstate highway system
is limited to a maximum of 6% grade. So, now picture that steepest
slope and imagine it two and two thirds times as steep. Now you have
a 16% grade.
Thank God, I had the
steering on Red Ryder fixed before this trip. I would no doubt be
writing this post from a ditch, high above Calistoga. I also had the
front brakes rebuilt a while back, hallelujah! Bottom line: we made
it over the hill from Calistoga to Santa Rosa. The drive, what I saw
of it, was beautiful. Mostly I saw the centerline and the
non-existent shoulders of Petrified Forest Road.
Hmmm...petrified...perhaps, there is a reason for that name!
Once we got to Santa
Rosa, the fun was only beginning. We found US 101, our highway of
choice for the day and headed south toward Walnut Creek. I must
explain that when we were packing up for the trip, we packed a
computer bag with the following: 2 MacBook Air computers (his and
hers), an iPad (hers), a Kindle Fire (his) and an iPod (hers). Or
rather I should say I packed those things in the bag (including
chargers), minus her MacBook.
Later, Jill packed
her MacBook in the bag, as any helpful wife would do. Since I
virtually always pack up the hi-tech stuff, she naturally assumed
that I would make sure everything was in the bag. When it was time
to put the bag in the camper, I looked and found Jill's MacBook, so
naturally, since I had packed everything else in the bag I was
grateful that she had put her computer in. I naturally assumed that
when she packed the computer, she also packed the charger. Jill
naturally assumed that since I always pack the bag, I packed the
charger. Well, you know the old adage about what happens when you A$$
U ME.
Did I mention we
stopped in Walnut Creek to pick up a charger for Jill's computer?
Lesson 3: But before
we got there, we discovered that almost all Californians are driving
south on Hwy 101 into San Francisco at 9AM everyday. We also
discovered that virtually all California drivers were dozing in
driver's ed class when the lesson about how to merge onto a freeway
was presented. The standard Californian way to merge is drive up the
ramp at 35-40 mph, confident in the assumption (there's that word
again) that the oncoming traffic will happily change lanes, or
perhaps, slow down graciously, or even maybe someone will stop and
get out and sweep off the ramp for you and allow you to enter the
flow of traffic in your own good time. After all, you are a
Californian entering the freeway traffic. It is your right to do it
in your own unique way. Certainly, you have no responsibility in this
matter. (I believe the ninth circuit has already ruled on this
point.) I am reminded of the line of someone very near and dear to me
who was heard to say in similar circumstances as she laid on the horn
to avoid a collision, “It's called MERGE. Look it up!!”
Lesson 4: Once the
highway widened to three lanes in each direction, I was able to stay
in the middle lane and avoid the hapless “mergers.” That didn't
fix the pavement, however. I think the last time any of the highways
in the bay area was paved may have been during the Hoover
administration. I swear every bridge, overpass, or change of paving
material that involves the interface of two pieces of highway gear is
made with about a four inch change in elevation. Thus, when you
encounter said interface at or below the posted speed limit, the
pavement drops out from under your vehicle just long enough for it to
land in the lowest point in the depression. Then the tires climb up
out of the depression at the other side of the interface and are
launched into thin air. Believe me, at 65 mph with a 5 ton vehicle,
this adds excitement to your life that you may not be able to
imagine.
At this point, I
would like to offer kudos to the Apple Store in Walnut Creek. Having
loped and galloped over the various 101s and 37s and 80s and 780s and
680s, we arrived at the store just as Gerty said we would. We found a
parking spot across the street, plugged the meter, and we were back
in the car with power supply in hand in (I kid you not) 10 minutes!
Maybe we could get the Apple people to work on the highways some.
Once we got to
Morgan Hill, we stopped for lunch and to let the heeby jeebies wear
off a bit. From then on the drive was a bit better. Most of the bad
road was in construction zones, where you expect it to be. The
scenery was beautiful, and Red Ryder purred along quite contentedly.
There was, of course the occasional California Merger to contend with
(one of whom nearly drove off the road when I honked my horn as he
was about to side swipe me, having not even looked to see if there
was traffic in the lane he intended to enter.) But all things
considered, the second half of the trip was a breeze.
And speaking of
breeze. We are now parked at the LeSage Riviera RV Park in Grover
Beach. The breeze is wafting the smell of salt water over the dunes
and into Topper. We had a nice stroll on the board walk that borders
the beach. A lovely lady named Carolyn offered to take our picture
with our camera when she saw me using it to get some scenery shots.
It turns out that she is a fellow Christ follower, from Bakersfield,
CA. She is familiar with some of Jill's ancestors who came from
Bakersfield. She also knows where Dallas, OR is, because she is
Mennonite and is aware of the history of Dallas having been at one
time a nearly exclusively Mennonite community. I wonder if Carolyn
knows how to merge.
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