Wow. You beat me to it AND you squealed all about the new Jack Collapse West Coast Edition, so please disregard my heckle below to step up and tell us all about it ... you did!
That was quite a beautiful trafficky hot drive down from Sacramento to visit with covelo. I camped here in Sacramento after lunch with JLT:
I know, beautiful, right? It was a big wall of what? Levee, that's what:
Ain't it a lovely juxtaimposition of all that is wrong and beautiful about California?
Here's a juxtaposition of all that was off about American auto manufacturing next to all that was right about German auto manufacturing:
Ever meet a narcissists who might be looking at you but is really just scanning for his/her own reflection?
Me too:
Drove past a horrific tangle of junk devoted to "amusement". I'm not:
This is California Highway 37 going to Covelo's house from Tracy over the Sacramento River delta:
These pictures were taken in 101* heat in an endless traffic jam on CA 37. It was "race day". Look at the car riding my bumper:
It will be difficult for you to see, but that is a line of slow cars leading all the way off the right side of the picture:
Getting closer to covelo's house. That is San Francisco over the cows (think of that sentence):
It was nighttime in covelo's town when I finally found my campsite behind a store. Soo tired, but there was a noise coming from above the jalousie window. What? I shot the camera for a quick look-see and to disorient the burglar ... deer!
Found covelo's house buried up in the hills via an insane narrow path choked with cars parked worse than Brooklyn. Covelo goes way back with me. 2007? He sold me Pluck(y) The Squareback. He is one of those very smart people. We did a valve adjustment and timing check on his 1980 Vanagon camper just to while away the time while we waited for the sun to bring the splintery driveway "deck" up to pre-spontaneous-combustion temperatures. Look! A loyal patron patronizing:
Once the pre-spontaneous-combustion temperature had been reached (about a thousand degrees), we slid around on our backs trying to drive as many splinters into our skin as we could so we could adjust and lubricate the shift rod in perfect agony. Well, the shifter moved more easily. Then we discovered that the spare tire carrier retainer bolt was pretty much stripped out, so we snaked (snaked, I tell ya!) down the side of the hill into the festering sweltering little town of Fairfax to find a tap/bolt. Bought a silly bolt and snaked back up into the hill via mystery trails (one-way, even) to see if we had a "solution" which we didn't. But at least it was still hotter yet on that wood splintered "driveway" to hell. So we checked the rear brakes (FYI, I check brakes AFTER snaking down steep little paths into pedestrian-choked little towns). I am NOT telling the readership that the car came crashing down off the jack. No covelo, I have a REPUTATION to defend here. YOU tell them (omg, you DID):
Anyways, leaky rear cylinders. As I slipped into heat stroke, we had a beer. It was a very fine beer, and it was lovely to see you again, and drive your very nice Vanagon and meet your family!
Then I snaked down the hill. Look at this! The houses barely perched, the hairpins, the parked cars at roof level or three stories below the front door, whatever! Californians ...
But look at this, Commuter Scenery, California Style:
Is it earthquake-certified? Stay tuned ... (08/02/19 Richmond-San Rafael Bridge score > mediocre) :
Made it to BoltonFTW's burg at 10:00PM and got lost just enough to camp in a church parking lot up on a hill with crickets and no lights and a light breeze and a slight fever of guilt at what I had just subjected NaranjaWesty to, that commuter crowd is a tough one and the road surfaces are deteriorating in California, my beloved road-engineering California.