travel: November 2010 Archives

I'm still not back in Texas.  I was supposed to arrive on November 5.  It's November 18.

I haven't written anything because it didn't seem all that interesting to post the same thing every day for two and a half weeks: "Still waiting on my car to be repaired..."

Shortly after the last post the day the accident happened, my wonderful sweet amazing angelic cousin Sheryl drove down to San Luis Obispo to rescue me and take me back to San Francisco.  That way I could wait for my car there, spend more quality time with her, and avoid pissing money away on a hotel alone in San Luis, going out of my mind with guilt and worry.  They said it would take about a week to fix my car, so I figured I would be on the road the next week.

In the meanwhile, I spent about 3 hours a day on the phone with insurance people and auto repair shop goons.  The good news is that the motorcycle guy admitted the accident was his fault, so his insurance is reimbursing me for everything related to my "trip interruption": all the damage to my car, hotels, mileage for my cousin to rescue me, my dad's one-way ticket back home from Vegas since I couldn't be there to pick him up, rebooking my trip to South Carolina (where I am now) to leave from San Francisco instead of Amarillo, cell phone overages, everything.  All that went really well, I was surprised how generous they were, and how they even suggested reimbursing me for a few things I didn't think of!  (!?)

But for every bonus point the insurance people have earned, the auto shop people have negated it tenfold.  I will skip all the maddening details, but essentially they have had the car for 2+ weeks AND HADN'T STARTED REPAIRS UNTIL I CALLED AND YELLED AT THEM YESTERDAY.  They were waiting for parts to be shipped, which I understand...but the one final part that they had been waiting on FOR OVER A WEEK was a PURELY COSMETIC cover for the FUCKING BUMPER.  I went ballistic.  So allegedly they are now going to proceed with repairs sans bumper cover and have promised the car will be ready by the end of day Monday, leaving me with just barely enough time to make the two day drive to be home for Thanksgiving.

Although I know they won't hit that deadline, because (1) they seem to be completely incompetent at estimating how long their own repair processes take (2) everything that has gone wrong for me for the past few weeks has gone wrong, and will probably continue to do so.

If I do miraculously make it home in time for Thanksgiving, I will be three weeks late.  That is insane.  This accident derailed me for three weeks.  I keep thinking of Count Rugen the Six-Fingered Man in the Pit of Despair next to The Machine, standing over me saying, "I've just sucked one month of your life away..."

So much for my leisurely two months off.

Although...with Cousin Sheryl's help, I've definitely tried to make the best of my time with her in California.  There are much worse places to be stranded than a sleepy beachside town in California with sunshine, great food, great wine, and a cute dog!  I have plenty of fun stories to share, but after relaying the whole auto repair debacle I'm too pissed off to tell you any of them.  Another day, perhaps...

In the meantime, please think good thoughts for me and my poor, neglected car and pull for us that we make it home in time for Thanksgiving.  It's been over a year since I've been home-home.  That is the longest ever in my life.  I'm out of patience, and I just wanna go home.  Please.

That was not supposed to say "to San Luis Obispo".  That was supposed to say "to Los Angeles."  Today did not go as planned.

This entry was supposed to contain lots of amazing pictures of the California beach highway #1.  I left my cousin's house and took the curvy, beautiful highway that hugged the beach all the way from San Francisco to Los Angeles.  But about halfway to LA, something horrible happened that will haunt me for the rest of my life. 

I hit a guy on a motorcycle.

It all happened very fast.  I was driving along the highway, being so careful to go slow around all the crazy curves.  I came around a bend, and saw one guy coming the opposite way on a motorcycle firmly in his lane...and a guy on a motorcycle behind him totally wobbling out of control on the yellow median.  He spun out.  His motorcycle flew towards the shoulder on my side, and the motorcyclist flew right into my lane under the front of my car. 

I hit him.

I hit a human being with my car.

I can't go into details without freaking out, but please know that he is okay.  He has scratches and scrapes and a dislocated shoulder, but his brother assures me that the injuries are minor, all things considered.  I don't feel right sharing the photos from the morning, knowing what happened in the afternoon.  So rather than sharing my happy memories of sightseeing, I'd like all of you reading this to send a prayer / good thought / wish to Erik.  He is resting in the hospital right now.  And if you could also give thanks to all the Good Samaritans / angels / whatever biblical or celestial beings you believe in who stopped to help out.  I'm humbled at how many people pulled over.  Some rushed to Erik's side to render aid, others came to me to give comfort.  It was an awful awful awful day, but it could have been so much worse.  Thank you, God, for creating such effective brakes and helmets and keeping Erik safe. 

Day 4 Soundtrack: The Monkees...

When I planned this road trip, I decided to give myself a bonus day in San Francisco so I could do a little sight-seeing, spend a little extra time with my cousin Sheryl, and have a day off of driving.  So today I tried (and failed) to sleep in, and then went on a little side tour to San Jose. 

One of the things I had planned to do was go to the Computer History Museum (Where Computer History Lives™) to have a look at the Babbage Engine and other historical computer gadgets, and generally geek out.  But sadly for me, the museum is currently under major renovations and isn't open on weekdays.  No vintage computing technology for me. 


What I would have seen if the computer gods hadn't cursed me.

However, the other museum I wanted to see was open: The Winchester Mystery House.  This is an architectural oddity built and designed by an heir of the Winchester rifle fortune.  She was batshit crazy.  She was somehow convinced that all the tortured souls who had been killed by Winchester firearms had taken to their spirit forms, and made a beeline to San Jose to haunt her.  And that the only way to appease these spirits was to ensure that the mansion was continually under construction.  So what began as an 8 room farm house exploded and mutated into a 14 bedroom, 13 bathroom, 6 kitchen, 2 ballroom, 1 seance room clusterfuck.  Oddities include doors that open to a two-story drop outside, staircases that lead up to ceilings, fake doors leading to brick walls, a window in the floor,  and a kazillion little two inch high steps winding all over the place. 

I wasn't allowed to take photos inside, so the best I got was a few shots of the exterior.  Be sure to pay attention to the "Door to Nowhere" in the photo on the right:



After my little adventure, I headed back beachside and Sheryl made us some delicious risotto and we watched the San Francisco Giants beat the Texas Rangers for the World Series championship.  And tomorrow I get up early to drive down Highway 1 to Los Angeles...
 

Day 3 Soundtrack: Wayne "The Train" Hancock, Hank Williams III, Faith No More, Alice Cooper and DragonForce... (I was getting sleepy towards the end of the day and had to punch things up.)

To keep with the redwood theme of Northern California, I found a cute little lodge with a redwood gimmick.  This little place on the outskirts of Crescent City was entirely constructed from the wood of one bigass redwood tree.  Crescent City was only stop on this whole tour where I didn't have friends or family to stay with, and I couldn't have asked for a cuter / nicer / cleaner / cheaper place.  It was RIGHT on the 101, which made it really easy to hit the road Sunday morning for San Fran.



And the drive from Crescent City to San Francisco along the 101?  Oh, man.  I was alternating between gasping about how huge and amazing the redwood trees were, and getting glimpses of the ocean with waves crashing on the beach.  I basically spent the entire morning living inside a Tom Petty song.

Not far outside of Crescent City, I started seeing signs for one of the many famous drive-through trees.  It was a waste of time, it was a waste of $5, and it would have been a waste of my day if I didn't do it!  Vrrroom!



As if the 101 wasn't scenic enough, there was an alternate scenic route along the Avenue of the Giants, which is  a curvy road through the heart of the redwood forest.  Twenty miles of nothing but redwood majesty.  I just...I was...it...I can't.  I have no idea how to convert what my little eyes saw into words.  It was beautiful.  It was humbling.  It was ridiculous.  It was the best idea ever to go the long way.



Then sadly, all the forests gave way to suburbia.  My private little drive where I might pass one car every 5 minutes turned into city traffic.  I was frowning at all the Home Depots, until this came into view and I was reminded that the city can be nice, too:



Soon after I arrived at my cousin Sheryl's little beach hideaway right off Highway 1.  I requested salmon with dill for dinner, because spending so much time in the forest made me homesick for Finland.  We had a quiet evening in, waiting for trick or treaters who never came, and eating the Tootsie Rolls meant for them.  And thus ends another day of the motor tour...