Rainy highways in my area seem to be a signal for the cerebrally disadvantaged to drive as fast as possible. I had a string of testosterone charged Toyota pickups with Skin decals and the like tailgating me in the slow lane, where I was already doing seventy. Welcome to the morning commute.
I made my way to a bar in Solana Beach, arriving there at 7:00 in the morning. People were already well on their way to oblivion. The bar was the Surf and Saddle. (which for the longest time had the unfortunate title of the Tight End) I was supposed to look at a western drawing by Maynard Dixon. The owner of said drawing is unfortunately now homeless and living out of his truck. His hands shook miserably. He apologized and said that they wouldn't calm down until he had a few drinks. The rain was now a light mist which he cursed. I laughed and pointed out that in any other part of the country people would make fun of you for even calling it rain.
Our business transacted, I took a slow ride up Coast Highway 101, stopping at Cardiff Reef first and taking pictures of a whole bunch of paddleboarders skimming through the glassy ocean. Continued on to Swamis and then up the coast.
I felt like I had transported back to when I was a 17 year old and surfed Cardiff Reef in the days of my youth. Encinitas and Leucadia in the early morning somehow felt like the old times before the change in the late 70's when things got commercial. A few surfers, people restocking the restaurants and bars, but no one on the roads save a few old timers on bicycles. The old landmarks, VG's, Keno's, the Leucadian, all still full of rundown coastal funk.
With a pandemic and a D-8 bulldozer, we could really reclaim a lot of cool areas in SoCal. Everyone that wasn't born here or had lived the requisite amount of years would be politely asked to leave. Start with the crackerbox tracts. Then redo Vista and Escondido for good measure.
1 comment:
but, what about maynard dixon?
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