Road trips.

I used to do them a lot when I first moved to California.  First in my little red Chevette, then in my Plymouth Sapporo and then in my white Acura Legend.  Not too often in my Audi TT.  Nowadays, most of my travels involve airplanes and passports.  I like it that way … for as long as this old gal holds up, I want to see as much of the world as I possibly can!

Last weekend, I took a road trip with my best friend, Kathleen.  I would have loved to drive, but she had 181,000+ miles and an issue with her coolant levels.  (Just to clarify: “her” refers to my TT – not to Kathleen!)  So we traveled in style in Kathleen’s Mercedes.

Our destination was the town of Mariposa, just outside Yosemite National Park.  Our mutual friend, Donna, had moved up there with her husband Eric about 10 years ago.  Neither of us had ever been up to see her, despite years of saying, “We should go visit Donna some day.”  Finally, we were making the journey!

Friday was Kathleen’s birthday.  And my 60th birthday was the following Monday.  Two Scorpios.  Or, since I’m a “double Scorpio” – does that make it three Scorpios?  We named ourselves the “Yosemite YaYas.”

We had almost five hours of girl-talk time … and used it wisely to catch up.  Since Kathleen moved to Santa Barbara, we don’t see each other as often as we used to.  Across Simi Valley, north through the Santa Clarita Valley, past Magic Mountain, over the Grapevine and through the endless, desolate stretch of the 99 in the Central Valley.  (Everybody in California says “the” in front of the highway or freeway number.)

It wasn’t much more than an hour north of LA when I knew I’d entered another world.  The Central Valley is one of the world’s most productive agricultural regions.  According to Wikipedia, they grow tomatoes, almonds, grapes, cotton, apricots, and asparagus.  Lots of cows, too, as evidenced by the smell.  The draught is very much in evidence.  At one stretch, acres and acres of trees (almond trees, I think), had been plowed up. 

Billboards read, “Jesus Saves.”  English is the secondary language at rest stops.  We passed places with cute-sounding names like Pixley and Raisin City.  I’m guessing the towns aren’t so cute.

The best rest stop en route was definitely Bravo Farms.  A multitude of signeage beckoned us to exit at the town of Traver.  It was a fortuitous stop because that’s when I first laid eyes on Pinky.  She sat on the floor, just inside the front door.  It was love at first sight.  Had to have her.  Don’t know why – except that she’s whimsical and attention-grabbing and it’s my 60^th birthday and doesn’t everyone want a large, pink flying pig on their 60^th birthday?

OK – so I’m weird.

It was a fun stop. Lots and lots of memorabilia, antiques, Americana and vintage finds.  I could have spent much more time here … but it was time to get back on the road.

 

North of Fresno, it finally got prettier.  A few rolling hills, some trees.  Arriving at sunset, Donna and Eric’s three friendly dogs welcomed us to their property.  Donna showed us around their five acres with towering Black Oak, Sugar Pine and Ponderosa Pine trees, her gardens (in which she gamely battles rabbits, deer and squirrels for control), the pool, hot tub and the little guest cottage with its vintage metal kitchen.

Donna reminded me of the last time I’d visited.

“I’ve never been here,” I responded.

“Yes, you were here for one night a few years ago. You were on your way to somewhere.”

I was incredulous.  Embarrassed.  I stayed overnight in Mariposa on the way to somewhere?  Where on earth was I going?  And why did I not remember?

She brought out her guestbook, where – in an entry dated August 16, 2006 – I had filled three pages with eloquent prose about how beautiful it was and how much that single overnight had restored my soul.  Three pages!  And I remembered nothing.

“Don’t you remember Buddy? Buddy the donkey?”

That triggered a more recent memory of a video clip I’d seen on a back-up hard drive.  A donkey and a couple of dogs raced back and forth along a fence.  “Where on earth was that footage taken?” I had wondered.  So that mystery was solved –  but I still couldn’t imagine what trip I had taken that would have included a stop in Mariposa en route.

If there’s a disadvantage with the amount of traveling that I do, it would be that my memory sometimes does not retain as much as I’d wish.  Thank god for digital pics and video.  Reading through my 3-page guest book entry, it seems I’d enjoyed a few vodka tonics in the gazebo.  Ah – so THAT would explain the memory loss!

Gradually, it came back to me.  My brother and his family were visiting the States from Japan, and had gone to Sacramento to see friends.  I had been here eight years before – on my way to Sacramento.  Ah, another mystery solved!

 

Early on Saturday morning, I took a walk to see Buddy the Donkey.  He wasn’t quite as active as I remembered.  A little grayer, too.  It happens to the best of us.

Yosemite is, of course, one of the most extraordinarily scenic places on the planet.  No passport needed.  No airlines involved.  No TSA.

The best trip can be one very close to home.

---

What’s your favorite road trip memory?