Not today. Went west on it a little bit, avoided sudden death when I realized with nearly a second to spare that the switch to I-5 LA-bound is one lane and not two, and headed south. And drove and drove and drove.
Actually the new adult and soon-to-be college student had the reigns when we hit the 100 and 200 mile marks, so I took pitchers. Surprised?
You shouldn't be. Yes, this vast truck stop is what you see exactly 100 miles down the road from my house. And 100 miles later we were still in the feet of the Coast Range, with orchards as far as they eye can see off to the left, rolling hills of dry grass under the tread of cows on the right, and an endless parade of cars and trucks on the broad ribbon of asphalt in between. Iconic California, really. To me.
Ever have a character in a story suddenly just leap out at you? Happens to me. One memorable invention was Tequila Mockingbird, until I did a search and found I was neither the first nor the tenth person to think of that one. But this Buttonwillow McKittrick -- I could tell you a lot about her, just from her name. And I'm sure you could tell me. But it doesn't matter, does it? Most stories are never written. We are on a path and we are going places, and there's just no stopping for side trips.
Miles later, at 300 from home, not a lot has changed.
When we passed 400 I was fighting late rush hour Los Angeles traffic and CBA to grab the camera. I did snap one earlier as we climbed the Grapevine towards Tejon Pass, no particular reason why. The mountains and the dueling trucks made for a sense of drama, but mainly in comparison to miles and miles of Kern County. Now we're here, winding down for tomorrow and our visit to UCI. To the Future, and beyond!
3 comments:
Spent some of my childhood in Buttonwillow, at the ancient 'gun club' my great uncle Byron belonged to. Shot clay pigeons and helped him with gardening. Sure was hot in the summer down that way.
50 crosses the Chesapeake Bay Bridge on the way to the Maryland Shore. My mother would drive us there when we were little and she would always get lost and ask directions from some wino who would say "you lookin f'fitty, fitty bout thirty fotty fitty mile you take a ri' you take le' you gotta dolla."
Sadly, much of that endless orchard has been swallowed up by the melanomic expansion of Tracy and Modesto. I see that road several times a year, and I am saddened by the rapid disappearance of farmland under new neighborhoods.
By the way, the road to McKittrick is quite beautiful in springtime. The grass in the Temblor Range is bright, bright green then you descend onto the Carrizo Plain and if you're lucky you'll see the pronghorn antelopes bounding along. I love that part of CA.
Oh yeah, I remember the beginning of 50 in Annapolis. It was quite inspiring to get on and drive it west to Washington DC. Not sure why, it just was.
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