View from the Back Seat

As I write this we are driving over the Grapevine, the pass over the mountains between the Central Valley and Los Angeles. When I was a child in Pasadena, my grandparents lived in the Santa Cruz mountains in Northern California, and we visited them every summer.

It was a fearsome journey in those days before air conditioned cars and efficiently cooled engines. My parents would have lengthy discussions over which route to take and whether to do it at night when it was cooler. If they decided to go at night, they would turn the back seat of the Plymouth (it was always a Plymouth) into a bed for my brother and me. There were no seatbelts in those days and we both thought if it as A Big Adventure. I don't think my parents thought so...

The Grapevine was the first hurdle. After stopping for breakfast in Castaic the trip up the steep hot narrow grade began. Cars carried burlap bags full of water on their bumpers. It didn't always help. Many cars broke down or overheated. Others lost their brakes. It was a tense trip.

The next hurdle came at Blackwell's Corners where the discussion was whether to go via Taft or Maricopa. They were both hot, treeless and desolate. Once the decision was made and Dad had made the turn, he would inevitably say, "the die is cast". It always seemed quite ominous. I still think it when we whiz past the turnoff for Taft on the Interstate.

Today it is 100 degrees outside, I don't think Blackwell's corners exists anymore but Will is driving us in air conditioned comfort on a wide new highway in my Mercedes Benz. (Channel Janis Joplin here :-)