Here’s a story, of a lovely lady
There is a spot as you drive down California Hwy 178 where you come up over a hill and the only possible thing to say at that point is, “Holy shit. Trees.”After driving across the desert floor for hours on end, expecting at any moment to see the Coyote and Road Runner go shooting by in the other lane, green is a color I hadn’t ever expected to see again.
With the rocks and trees and dusty old buildings, it’s the same landscape as from that episode of Brady Bunch where the family goes on vacation and the kids get locked up in that old ghost town jail cell by that crazy old coot. Remember? The one where Greg nabs the keys off the hook by fashioning a lasso with his belt? Looks just like that.
I must say, it brought a small tear to my eye to be able to use my childhood TV education twice in just five miles. My mother would be proud. I always told her I was learning something.
