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We continued up the Pacific Coast Highway, stopping at dramatic Morro Bay.
We continued up the Pacific Coast Highway, stopping at dramatic Morro Bay.
We made it to San Diego and stopped at another car repair shop, seeking an alignment and ending up with new brakes. Finally our bad luck ran out and we enjoyed a beautiful sunset and lots of great beer.
continued from last week’s Tire Blow-Out post…
So after a night in Joshua Tree National Park we drove to Palm Springs to get Pearson’s glasses fixed and procure four new tires.
As an aside, someone please tell me the appeal Palm Springs. Seriously, I don’t get it. It’s miles and miles of strip malls and traffic, all I felt there was panic and anxiety; it took all day to run a hand full of errands.
I have had so many amazing, beautiful, perfect experiences, but it’s the imperfect ones– the truly disastrous ones– that are the most memorable and often the most humorous. They become funny in their absurdity, funny in their improbability, funny in the confluence of events that can, thankfully, never all happen at once again. The lines “we’ll laugh about this someday” and “but think of the story you’ll have” really do apply and I always try to remind myself of that when things are epically melting down. Continue reading »
On Valentine’s Day we drove 650 miles across Texas: from San Antonio to El Paso and then up to Alamogordo, New Mexico (it was an easy but exhausting way to spend a pointless “holiday”).
We hightailed it out of Arkansas, trying to stay one step ahead of the winter storm that had been following us for days. We made it to Dallas and briefly checked out some sights.
We left Memphis and drove through Arkansas just ahead of a nasty winter storm.
We checked out Little Rock and then continued on to Hope, Arkansas, the childhood home of Bill Clinton. Continue reading »
In Memphis we watched the ducks exit the fountain and make their way to the roof of The Peabody Hotel.
We heard about so many cool bars in Memphis and saw a lot of action when we walked down Beale Street, but we chose to drink at a 1920s themed speakeasy on Main Street called the Blind Bear. It was a fun bar with local beer and flapper era cocktails. Continue reading »
We left New Orleans heading north along the Mississippi River and stopped in Natchez, Mississippi. I have read a bit about the history of the town and I enjoy Greg Iles’s books, many of which are set in Natchez. I expected some life on a Friday, but it was a chilly and damp February afternoon and the town was deserted. We walked through the Hotel Eola, which was ghostly and tattered and beautiful.
Quick Beer: “Come in for a quick beer?” “Come by for a beer, quick.” “Stay for one more.” Statements I love hearing and commands I might actually comply with (I don’t like being told what to do). But, I have a theory about what a ‘quick beer’ is. A ‘quick beer’ is not a Belgian Quad or an Arrogant Bastard or a Brown’s Taconic Double IPA poured from a cask into an imperial glass, a ‘quick beer’ usually means just that: a beer you can drink quickly, something with a low ABV that is easy to drink. In my experience a ‘quick beer’ also implies a social contract where one must drink whatever is offered by the host, this is murky territory, as one could be forced to drink the feared ‘guest beer’ a brew so horrible that it’s only given with the intention (or hope) that the guest is not going to be sticking around for another, unless they’re a real asshole, and in that case they probably invited themselves over….Shandys are suitable guest beers, as are anything like Aspen Edge, Green Light, Michelob Ultra, or a dusty warm can of Ice House. Continue reading »
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