California Dreaming

Snow isn't a household word in California, unless you live north of San Francisco or east in the mountain elevations. Snow just doesn't fit here, it's a rare occurrence if ever and is alien to most residents of the Golden state.

I think I've mentioned before that whenever I take a vacation or travel to a new job with the old man, we reek havoc on the cities we pass through with strange and apocalyptic weather conditions. It's some sort of curse, most likely laid on us by hillbillies in the Enoree area...but we persevere. Yesterday we witnessed snow, and when I say snow I mean deep drifts much like that of a home near Kalamazoo, Michigan or Brockport, New York...or Marengo, Illinois. The small town of Yucca Valley and Joshua Tree were literally smothered under deep drifts of snow. The national park was closed...it's not like they have snow plows ready and waiting out here. So they made do with track-hoes and the like to make the roads somewhat accessible in town. We were disappointed, but we knew Dolly would love to take a romp in the white stuff so we pulled off a side road to let her out. No problem, Hee-Haw (the truck) has seen this before, it's not his first rodeo, so we drove on with no worries.
Hee-Haw usually is a very cooperative vehicle and does a fine job of hauling us across the country, until he sees snow in California and decides to blow off the four wheel drive.

Steam, hot molten lava and other hot liquids began to boil from the old man's ears, his nose started to run. We began to reinvent the curse word with more horrific and morbid exclamations, words that didn't make any sense to anyone except maybe H.P. Lovecraft. I assume Chevrolet got my first letter thanking them for their stupendous four wheel drive capabilities in situations similar to that of Deliverance; however, I will be writing a new letter demanding an explanation for why the 4x4 monster decided not to work when we were stuck in the snow...in California...in the desert.

I realize, stuff happens...no make that shit. Shit happens. Still it's unnerving to watch two older ladies drive by in a Mitsubishi Montero while your 3/4 ton pickup truck is spinning and screaming like a banshee. It looks like Hee-Haw will take a trip to the doctor this week, given they provide us with a courtesy vehicle as he is our only wagon. And I mean that, our only square wheeled wagon.

We've tried to make the best of our vacation, we have enjoyed the heated pool and the fact that the house has more than one room. Palm Springs is a beautiful place, full of old movie star glamour...it feels like Bob Hope or Frank Sinatra may step off the sidewalk at any moment to cross the street to the Smoke Tree Ranch. Wait, only Cary Grant went there. We've had a busy week, the drive to San Diego for the concert and shopping (by the way, I think outlets translate into something different here...Dolce & Gabbana, Georgio Armani and Gucci are not the norm at the Tanger outlets in Commerce, GA.), snow, swimming, lounging like a Hollywood celebrity...and the familiar smell of some dank ganja at every crosswalk from here to San Diego State University.
Yesterday we took a scenic drive around the San Jacinto mountains up to Idylwild and Pine Cove where we watched the sunset over the snowy peaks. I hope we make it back to the park today to hike to the Lost Horse Mine, and before we leave we plan on visiting the oddities surrounding the mysterious and forgotten Salton sea.

It's back to the Sonoran tomorrow, hopefully the rig will still be parked in our campsite (with a fully intact awning).