Hello! It’s me.
Yes, this is the road from the song popularized by the band “America”, way back in the early 1970s. Today, it was a parking lot that we spent 45 minutes on going approximately six miles. Well, I exaggerate. We were on the same highway, but in Santa Barbara trying to get to Ventura. Maybe Oprah was giving out free Pontiacs in front of her home in Santa Barbara, I don’t know, but the whole travel ecosystem was mucked up.
Prior to that, we had a foison of fun. We started the day by taking in the Pacific.
Then I met a fellow sausage link … this one is 3/4th dachshund.
Notice that the pup wasn’t sniffing my rear end. I had my own unique set of difficulties today. Remember when I enjoyed the hot dog in Carmel? So do I. I haven’t had much human food in the past four months, so when this foot-long piece of pressed meat went through my intestinal tract, the results were not pretty.
So much for human food.
Next up on the tour was the Hearst Castle (click here). I sat in the car for 2.5 hours holding my hot dog in until the next trip outside … but Mom and Dad were somehow able to bypass the 2-day reservation list by waltzing up to the ticket window and asking if anybody cancelled in the past few minutes? Turns out two people cancelled, so Mom and Dad got to hop on the next bus while everybody else in line … well … they didn’t get to hop on the next bus.
Apparently this wealthy entertainment dude from decades ago decided to build a small home that turned into a monstrosity requiring $25 per person admission. Worth it, of course, because you’re never going to witness this level of opulence in your local cul-de-sac McMansion.
I’d love to belly-flop in this pool.
The seasonal art was beautiful.
And the tour guide, Garrett, deserves five stars for his efforts.
Perched high up on a foothill, the views aren’t all that bad. By the way, that’s me in the car, parked way down there. See me?
It took 28 years to complete half of the work. The other half will be completed when the State of California is able to receive a bid to complete two-billion dollars of work for about eighty-thousand dollars.
We then drove down to Pismo Beach.
You all know about Pismo, right?
Donny would have loved this:
I reflected on the myriad ways that Donny might have spent time here.
Dad bought a t-shirt to commemorate the event while Mom and I sat in the car and took in the sights, along with a half-dozen semi-interested tourists.
From there, it was off to Ventura, where I watched carefully as Mom loaded stuff out of the car.
We decided to ignore the blood-colored stain at head-level in the bathroom … I’m sure somebody spilled fruit punch way up there. Right? Or did a Chupacabra infiltrate the room?
Now I’m worried.
I sang myself to sleep with America’s “Ventura Highway” (click here). To be honest, the hair those dudes sported was as frightening as the head-level blood stain in our hotel bathroom.