In Don Henley's song the “Boys of Summer” there are the lyrics:

Out on the road today I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac.
A little voice inside my head said:
"Don't look back, you can never look back."
I thought I knew what love was.
What did I know?
Those days are gone forever.
I should just let 'em go, but

Well this last weekend I successfully looked back and came away with a smile. Forgive the long winded set up to this story but it will put in perspective how I “went back this weekend.”

When I had just gotten my permit we went on a family vacation. It was my Mom, Dad, and myself. We were going to drive down from Los Angeles to San Diego. Then we were going to take Highway 1 all the way to San Francisco.

Now at the time we only had a Volkswagen station wagon. At the time with a Volkswagen I don't think there was any thing that was power/automatic. Locks, windows, transmission everything was manual. The clutch on that station wagon, to put it mildly, was super stiff. My Dad drives us down to San Diego and we are having a good time. When we start to head north to San Francisco he asks me if I want to learn to drive a stick. I said sure.

The on-ramp to the freeway was pretty steep and there was stop-and-go traffic. I had to stop on a hill. That is when I met the “clutch.” I must have stalled that engine 15+ times trying to get moving in first. The line of cars behind us was growing and so were the drivers displeasure. They were not as displeased as my Mom was though. She started telling my Dad to switch seats with me and get us out of there. Each time she repeated herself was a little bit louder and with more urgency. Dad just smiled and said “no he has to learn sometime and now is a good as any.”

You see when my Dad was on vacation he was never in a hurry. One time at the produce inspection stop Arizona/California border the guard asked my Dad if we had any fruits or vegetables. My Dad said “only this orange.” It had a green spot on it and the guard said we could not take it into California. So my Dad, not wanting to waste it, peeled that orange and ate it. Yup in the car, right in the inspection lane, with the guard watching through the window. That was fun, but I digress.

So after the umpteenth time of popping the clutch and stalling I nailed it and off down the 101 we went.

Another thing my Dad liked to do was stop and explore anything interesting. A trait I, have to admit, I have inherited from him. So as I drove up the twisting and turning Hwy 1 he would all of a sudden say “turn here I want to see that.” So across the road I would turn. Each time I thought Mom was going to have a heart attack. Well by the time we got to Monterey, me and that clutch were “simpatico.” I loved that car from that trip on and was sad when we sold it.

So this past weekend a friend of mine, who lives in Oakland, was having a party. Now he has a couple of sub woofers that he had replaced and had offered to give the old ones to me. They were big and too heavy to ship. His party gave me an excuse to drive and pick them up. More importantly, it also gave me an excuse to re-live the adventure I had learning to drive on Hwy 1 with my Mom and Dad. As you can see from the pictures in this post the beauty along Hwy 1 is second to none. The memories it brought back were priceless.

Early Saturday I started the 444 mile journey mostly in the rain and fog. Most of the trip I could not see more than an eighth of a mile in front of me. It was fun and even beautiful through the fog. Sunday. I drove back those same 444 miles; still overcast but no rain and a little fog toward sunset.

One memory that this trip brought back was one I always associate with that trip with my Parens. It is the reason, that to this day, I am not a big artichoke fan. Just off of Hwy 1 there is a town called Castorville. Castorville's claim to fame is being the “Artichoke Capital of the World.” My Mom bought a twenty five pound bag of artichokes. For weeks after the trip the three of us were eating artichoke this and artichoke that. By the time we finished that bag I really did not want to see another artichoke again. The memories of my Mom, artichokes, and the whole trip flew back into my mind when I saw the sign for the Castroville turnoff.

So Henley was wrong. You can go back. I will do this drive again but take my “photographer's assistant, i.e., my wife”. Maybe just maybe we will take longer than two days to go up and back! Maybe, we will play some Grateful Dead instead of Don Henley while we drive...