Nauseating
The trip to the Redwoods was sickening. At least for Maureen, and only for the first leg of the journey. We picked up the Toyota Corolla and drove down Mission Street in San Francisco looking for highway 1. More signage would’ve been helpful.
After crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, we had a choice to drive right on to highway 101, or left on to highway one. We chose left. Minutes later, in Reyes State Park without phone service, Moe’s stomach started to churn. My driving was making her sick. Lots of tight twists and curls at 45 mph can make for vomit-inducing moments. It’s interesting how the driver never gets sick. I guess if you’re in control, you are immune somehow.
We passed Stinson Beach. Such a stunning view of it from the highway. It was here that Moe begged to be put out of her misery, so we got onto 80 going east, and then 505 going north.
Bite Me Leprechauns
Shortly before arriving in Williams, I witnessed some green magic. A double rainbow over bright, green hills dotted with black cows and yellow flowers spread out before me. In the background was a sheet of ominous dark gray cloud with bolts of lightning flashing through the rainbow. Headed into a storm, I decided to stop for the night. I told Alex that I should’ve looked for the pot of gold and he said, “No. The leprechaun always takes it.” I never knew that. I thought they were our friends. What’s more amazing is that it was Saint Patrick’s Day. Could this have been some kind of omen?
Concrete Blues
We got as far as Williams, population 5,000. Surprisingly, our hotel was full; we got one of the last rooms. It was full of workers and I never found out what they were working as.
We finally got our food at the MacDonald’s drive thru and headed back to our room, but climbed up the wrong wing of the hotel. Going back down the slick concrete stairs, Maureen slipped and fell on her behind. “I want to go home!” she cried, and then lay there hungry and broken on the cold, slick cement in a Podunk town in the middle of nowhere with farmland stretching for as far as the eye could see.
Save the Coke
I felt bad for her, I really did. I asked if she could move. She nodded yes. So then I asked her if she would kindly move her butt so we could get back to the room and eat; the food was getting cold. No, I didn’t say that. She rose slowly to a sitting position. Concrete stairs are dismal to begin with, but there is nothing more depressing than a cement motel staircase, in the rain, at dusk, far from home when you are hungry.
She managed to stand and we moved carefully away leaving the diet Coke lying wounded on its side on the bottom step with its precious life’s blood seeping out of the lid. “You don’t want that?” I asked. “No!” she shouted disgusted. Why take it out on the Coke? It was a perfectly good Coke and boy did she miss it after eating her spicy McCrispy. “I think I may have broken my arm,” Maureen said. As it happened, there was slight bruising on her upper arm. Later, I said that I, too, had fallen while going to retrieve ice. “Really?” she asked. “Yes,” I said.
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