The City - April 2 and 3

One of the most interesting aspects of the trip has been the inclusion into the little group of VW enthusiasts roaming the country in their own Westys. With every passing of a Vanagon or Microbus a subtle little wave is exchanged, a hang loose sign or the nod of a head signifying a commonality of not only van but also of life's perspective. These signals are much like a biker's wave, though significantly less cool as the relaxed atmosphere surrounding our vehicles allows a more enthusiastic outpouring of emotion than seen out of the common Harley rider.

One of the most humorous parts of the trip has been witnessing the shock and amazement on other driver's faces when they realize they have just been passed by a VW van, a van that is significantly older than many of them no less. Their anger turns to shock - or perhaps embarrassment - as they realize that it is a Vanagon chugging past but the negative emotions quickly fade to amusement with my wave and smile, the obvious joy of being free spreading from my face to theirs.

When driving a road known as the Pacific Coast Highway one would expect to see the ocean out of the passenger side window for the majority of the trip, but the 101's nickname is a bit of a misnomer as the road often winds itself far inland through farms of cattle and artichoke and forests of towering redwoods and beautiful cedar. To gain the true ocean experience a traveler has to connect with the 1 just a few miles north of Ft. Bragg. Here the path is a true coastal traverse, amazing landscapes of ocean crashing into rock in a timeless battle of the solid versus the perpetual.

Entering into San Francisco I cannot help but be amazed at the beauty of the Golden Gate bridge though this awe quickly vanishes with the realization that beauty comes at a price and I have to fish around for my wallet. Having to pay $6 for a 5 minute crossing over a bridge that has already paid for itself many times over feels like being robbed, but the theory of supply and demand is a powerful one and a guaranteed money maker is hard not to take advantage of.

As legendary as the hills of The City are, nothing could have prepared my poor van for their inclines. As my van struggled up any and all hills I couldn't help but feel for all of the pedestrians roaming the streets, their peaceful, sunny afternoon stroll interrupted rudely by the blasts of noise exploding from my muffler as my van struggled along in first gear up the hills. But, as one would expect out of the inhabitants of a such an open and welcoming city, all seemed to laugh it off, as if this sight was worth the story they could now tell over the dinner table later that night.

The two nights spent in The City were a perfect mix of food and friends, the two lovebirds hosting this traveler with an openness and joy that one can only find from true friends. Though we never really made our way out into The City - much to the chagrin of some of my friends - the nights spent chatting about life and happiness far surpassed any expensive cocktail and feigned looks of importance.

I left Kelly and Lewis that afternoon, the knowledge that two nights of my company is more than enough, especially in a space so well suited for two so obviously in love and who have yet to tie the knot. With the wind howling and ten foot swells crashing violently onto the shore I turned my direction south, Santa Barbara and another good friend my destination.