Ali to the kids: “Papa did it, huh? The bus is fixed.”
Ouest: “He wouldn’t have been able to do it without us, though.”
Ali had been telling them all week that I needed their help. They were making runs to the store for me, staying out of the bus for me, and generally being pretty good kids for me. So I was happy to hear that Ouest took some bit of pride in the fact that she was part of getting the bus up and running again.
So yeah, the bus is fixed. We rolled off the farm early Monday morning—me in the bus and the rest of the clan in the rental car. The night before Ali asked me if I thought it was all good. I told her I thought so, but, I added, normal people would take it for a little spin around the neighborhood as a trial run. Instead, we spent the afternoon cleaning and then pulled out first thing in the morning, immediately jumping on the 101 during Monday morning rush hour.
It did indeed turn out all good. About the only thing I noticed that isn’t working is the water temperature gauge. That should be a pretty harmless fix.
I keep forgetting to mention the cause of the fire—at least what I think was the cause. Underneath the dash is a steel frame. One of the pieces of steel crosses two others and is pointed front to back. It’s directly in line with the steering column, and also sticks out beyond the steel frame by about an inch. When I uncovered the melted wiring I found that the wiring harness was pulled up tight against the corner of that piece of steel. It’s impossible to tell for sure, but that seems the most likely culprit. I’ve run all the new wiring a different way to avoid crossing over that frame again, as well as installed new rubber grommets in the floor pass-through. Hopefully we can avoid any more chafing.
We returned the car and then all piled in for our run through San Francisco. This is a weird city, in that you really can’t just easily bypass it. To do so requires a pretty huge detour—especially if you plan to stay along the coast. No, to continue south along Highway 101 requires a full blown attack on the heart of the city.
Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge I felt a little nostalgic. Kind of amazing to think that just three years ago we sailed under the bridge with Ali full blown pregnant and Ouest just a tiny thing heading to sea for the first time. Now we’re a grown up functioning family of four barrelling headlong down the highway towards roughly the same destination.
After popping out the south side of the bridge I was stuck in the far right lane which almost immediately split off and forced me further right. It took me a mile or so to confirm that we were now on Highway 1, and our plan to drive down the 101 that day was shot.
I’d swear, but I can’t confirm, that there was not a single sign pointing towards either Highway 1 or 101. This is a California thing that I’ve noted for years. They are the worst state in the country at labeling their roads. I never know where I am or what road I’m on when in California. It’s like an inside joke the locals play on us out-of-towners.
We pulled in at Half Moon Bay for a morning break and were shocked by how busy it was. It took us fifteen minutes to find a place to park in town. When we got out to walk around we discovered why. It was pumpkin contest weigh-in day. A crowd of a few hundred were gathered in a parking lot and just as we walked up we saw a forklift maneuvering a giant white pumpkin onto a stage. The crowd was really into it, with bands playing, and half a dozen news agencies on hand.
2058 pounds! A new North American record. Or World Record, or California State record—who knows? I heard every one of those called out. The winner received six dollars a pound plus an extra grand for good measure. Over thirteen thousand dollars for a big gourd. We were proud to have been witness to such a momentous event.
I love how this guy looks like he just won a dirt track car race.
Ten days ago we told Ali’s parents to go ahead and book a trip to meet us in Santa Barbara. At the time we figured we had two weeks to make the three or four hundred miles. Seemed perfect. Then a day later the bus burned up. Now we’ve got three days left to cover that ground—on we go.
In Santa Cruz we were going to stop at the Marina RV Park. Not sure where to go, the kids and I went into the Harbor Patrol Office to inquire. The lady inside gave me a map and pointed the way to the North Harbor. I jokingly pointed out, “Last time we were here we were being towed in on our boat.”
“Bumfuzzle!” she yelled. “I thought you looked familiar.”
Nice to know that our previous appearance in Santa Cruz didn’t go unnoticed.
We drove down to the RV park/parking lot, found out it was fifty dollars for no internet and no bathrooms, and decided to continue on. That plan didn’t pan out so well when the next State Park down the road was full, and the next was tent camping only. By the time we stumbled across a KOA we gave up. So here we are.
22 Comments on “Back On Our Way”
Glad that you didn’t miss the pumpkin competition. Here is what it takes to grow one of these pups 🙂 http://www.smdailyjournal.com/articles/lnews/2014-10-14/tipping-the-scale-gargantuan-2058-pound-pumpkin-breaks-north-america-record/1776425131590.html
And i use to get proud when i grew a ‘ Japanese ‘ pumpkin,
nobody else could grow this variety, at least in my family but i mastered it as a mere 13-year-old kid!
Half Moon..cool spot..and the pumpkin festival is the big event there. You guys are really making time..too bad you had to rush down the coast. It’s a nice drive down 1 all the way until LA..
There is a restaurant in Half Moon Bay down by the docks that has the absolute best blueberry cobbler with vanilla ice cream. San Francisco, my old home town. My dad managed a service station, my mom stayed home and we lived on the avenues, 18th. Times have changed.
I’m sorry, I can’t help myself, it just grates on the ears in Northern California…..it’s not “the” 101 (“immediately jumping on the 101 during Monday morning rush hour”) or “the” 5…..save that for Southern California. Up here we still usually say Hwy 101 and I-5!
Thank you! You are hella right!
Totally. Last time I was in Frisco, I was annoyed by the “out of towners” calling it “the 101.” Geeze.
Anyone that comes to Cali and doesn’t get with the program, is sad!
Kevin, I’ll bet half the people that read your comments think you are serious. Well played. 🙂
And being from San Francisco I get annoyed by people calling the city “Frisco” .
Kevin was joking, Jerry.
What’s the dividing line? We say “the 101” in Monterey/Salinas.
Steve, your comment grates on my ears. Anyone who starts a sentence with “I’m sorry” isn’t actually sorry. When they say, “I can’t help myself,” they actually can. Anybody who gets their undies in a bunch over someone calling a road “the 101” instead of “Highway 101” is a sad sissy with an inferiority complex. And now, forever after, I will refer to it as “The 101.”
From now on I’m gonna call it the big one zero one! Steve is reminding me of all the reasons I left California over 20 years ago.
You might consider installing a mechanical temoerature guage. No electricity needed, and perhaps more accurate.
If I could only spell temperature.
San Diego is calling!!! Hopefully see you guys down here soon. I can’t believe what a big boy Lowe is now! Lyra is still rocking his blue Crocs <3
Won’t be too long now. Looking forward to it!
DT has driven our monster 45-foot motorhome (towing a car!) across the GG bridge several times, then continued up/down 101. Imagine driving that thing through The City? How lucky to stumble across a pumpkin contest! Happy you are on the road again.
It appears by your timing, Phish will be playing in Santa Barbara the same time you are there. I have never seen what your taste in music is, and haven’t assumed it is either or isn’t Phish type of music, but they are worth hearing either way and there will certainly be other kids there as well. Just an FYI.
Glad you are on the road again. Yey!
Interesting how your path crossed at the crossing of the Golden Gate Bridge.
Mark and Cindy
I remember our kids being so enthralled with the Hearst Castle 40 years ago.