Suddenly the low tire pressure light came on in the Grand Marquis. This had happened to both Donald and me in our own cars when the weather became freezing cold. Why it came on now when it was only down to the 50s was not something I wanted to think about. Luckily I was not driving, so I didn't have to make any decisions. We came upon a little service station in the middle of nowhere, and Clyde pulled the ailing GM in. There was a nice man working there, and he went into action. Clyde and Donald had gotten out to explain the situation, and also I think because few men can resist the lure of a garage. Bonnie and I stayed at our posts in the back seat. We got excited when the man rolled out the jack, because we knew we were about to see some NASCAR-type action. The pit crews of our favorite drivers can change four tires, clean the windshield, and fill the tank in 14 seconds, so we waited to see how quickly one lone man could change one lone tire. We started the stopwatch. He jacked us up with a couple of strong pushes, then he got the wheel off and put it in a bathtub. Then he put a patch on it and lugged it back on the car. The culprit was a screw. It was more than a 14 second pitstop; it was more like 14 minutes, or maybe even 34 minutes, but we were fortunate that the nice man was there, and that he only charged us $12. The low pressure light went out, and we went off in a cloud of dust.
We reached California at 7:37 am. I expected to immediately see miles of beaches. Perhaps we would, as soon as we reached the coast. We made a quick stop at a rest area to check on the newly patched tire. All was well. There was another car at the rest area that was overheating like Old Faithful, and we hoped that that story would have a happy ending. There was a Ranger in the parking lot, ready to offer assistance. The next stretch of road alternated twists and turns, rock walls, and big trees. It was not a relaxing road for
a passenger, and must have been even more difficult for the driver. But it was as scenic as anything. The trees were skinny, and had reddish colored trunks. Interesting, but we were waiting for the REAL Redwoods, not just red wood. The temperature dropped about 20 degrees in 20 minutes right before we reached the coast, the coast, the Pacific Coast! As the temperature dropped, the gas prices climbed; $3.19 a gallon was prevalent. No matter, we were IN CALIFORNIA. We stopped at the first real beach we came across, in Crescent City. We saw a jellyfish and some crabs in the sand, and touched the water. Felt just like the Atlantic. The fog was dissipating and the area was beautiful. The northern coast was one photo op after another. We reached the Redwood Forest and despite knowing what we were about to see, we were still astounded and enthralled by the size of the trees, and the darkness of the forest. Clyde had the great idea to take the scenic byway, and we saw even more trees. We were out of the GM at every turn-off on the winding roadway, and there were plenty of turn-offs. With the exception of one vehicle being in a hurry, everyone on the roadway of the Redwoods was there to enjoy the sights, and everyone was zipping along doing about 25 mph - when the road was straight. In between forests we saw a herd of elk near - amazingly enough - Elk Prairie.
Once along the ocean again near Orick, CA, we saw a sign that read, "deadly sneaker w
aves and dangerous surf". There were also "Tsunami Danger Zone" signs along the highway. We stopped for lunch in Eureka at Marie Callender's, and both Donald and I spilled blueberry pie in our laps, although most of it made it into our mouths. Nice. Next stop was Ferndale, CA, a Victorian town that exceeded all expectations; shops and photos and a perfect 73 sunny degrees. While we were there we witnessed some kind of all-hands-on-deck fire emergency, with firetrucks and volunteers are heading out of town as fast as their trucks would carry them. We didn't find out what caused all the excitement as we had to go see more Redwoods on the Avenue of the Giants. We made a wrong turn and nearly ended up in a California Correctional Institution, but Clyde executed a quick three-point turn and we were out of there.
The temperature reached a balmy 93 degrees by 3:17, but we were comfortable. The Redwoods continued to be amazing. (Note to B - there was an empty Pabst Blue Ribbon can at the base of one of those beautiful Redwoods.) We passed through Mendocino, where "Murder She Wrote" was filmed. Or maybe we just saw a sign for it. We did see a music festival, or at least passed by one, with Emmylou Harris as the premier attraction. It looked like a mini-Woodstock.
We got to Ukiah at 5:32. The Comfort Inn & Suites was (were?) fantastic, the best lodging yet. It had a Platinum rating, and served a full hot breakfast, starting at 7:00 am. Unfortunately we would have to be on the road before then, and would look for something equally fabulous elsewhere on our way to seeing what the Travel Channel rated as the best bridge in the world (or something like that).
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