Hello blog faithful! Another Thursday is upon us, and right up front I’ll get to the point about the NHRA St. Louis race, which begins tomorrow. It’s hard to believe, even for me, but I’m not going to attend. We have a ton of stuff going on here in Woodbury, and it was a late entry decision for Del to make, so I have decided to save the money and not be there in person. I can follow along on All-Access, and plan to do that, but the air fares were kind of nuts for STL and I just got back from a pricey trip to Southern California. It’s a bit of a long drive, too, so that was not an option. Had we not just gone down to St. Louis for my birthday in June, it would’ve been a harder decision to make. I’ll miss everyone, and I’ll miss the chance to be “home” once again, but it’s the prudent decision.
Backtracking, now, I will recount for you the very interesting and very successful trip to Orange County. First off, I sat in the Sky Club before my flight and was at one of the work cubicles answering emails. I’d been sitting there for 20 minutes before I turned to my right to see a sharply dressed gentleman sitting near me, and I thought, “Man, he looks familiar.” Couldn’t figure it out for a bit, but then I sneaked a phone pic (I know, that’s bad of me) and texted it to Barbara, with the message “I think Andrew Zimmern is sitting next to me in the Sky Club.”
If you don’t know who Andrew Zimmern is, the quick version of the story is that he was born and raised in New York but had some issues and came to Minnesota for some treatment. He decided to stay, and now he’s a world-renowned Master Chef who lives in Minneapolis. The more I peeked at him, the more I was sure it was him and later on, during my flight, I saw a photo online of Andrew Zimmern helping the Minnesota Wild open the new nutrition center at their fabulous new practice facility in downtown St. Paul. Same shirt, same watch, same orange framed glasses. It was indeed him.
I’ve run into a few recognizable people in various Sky Clubs over the years (including the old days with Northwest when it was the World Club). Let’s see… Mike Ditka, current Vikings coach Mike Zimmer, Walter Mondale, Terry Bradshaw, George Will, Keith Hernandez, Nomar Garciaparra, David Bromstad, and others. The only one I’ve approached was Walter Mondale, and he was extremely gracious.
Anyway, back to the story at hand. We arrived at John Wayne Airport 37 minutes early, and I’m sure you can tell where this is going. Delta only has three or four gates at John Wayne, at the end of one of the two concourses, and all of them were full. So we waited about 25 of those minutes for our gate to open up. I picked out a rental car and drove to the Embassy Suites, which was just a mile from the airport and easy to find. Nice place!
I checked in, put my stuff away, and went right back to the car to make Trip 1 of my excursions. I headed south on the 405 Freeway, then on to the 5 Freeway all the way past San Juan Capistrano. I did not check to see if the swallows had returned this year, but that reminds me of a story I used to love talking about. When I lived in Dana Point, which is just west of Capistrano, I drove over to the old mission once and saw a sign on a shop nearby that read “Swallow Souvenirs and Swallow Stories” and all I could think was “You go in there and hand a guy five bucks and he says, ‘Once I swallowed an entire cheeseburger all at the same time’ or ‘There was a time I tried to swallow a 12-ounce frozen smoothie but all I got was brain freeze’.” Thanks, I’m here all week.
Okay, enough of the nonsense. I was on a mission. I got on the Pacific Coast Highway and headed north, up through the aforementioned Dana Point, Monarch Beach, Aliso Beach, and then Laguna Beach. Whenever I saw something that felt important to see, I got off the PCH and drove through neighborhoods, past schools, and into the main business districts. My Southern California character, for the new book, will live and attend school in some of these places, so I needed to get a feel for it and make sure it was time correct. After all, I couldn’t have him attending a high school that wasn’t built until 12 years after I have him going there. Plus, just being in residential neighborhoods tells you a lot about a place. How do the old houses look? Are they kept up? Are people outside? Are there kids on bikes and skateboards? It’s all flavor, and all important.
After Laguna, it was further north up through Corona Del Mar and Newport Beach, then I called it an afternoon and exited the PCH at MacArthur Blvd., which took me right back to the hotel.
That evening, I was Facebook Messaging with Jeff Morton, from NHRA, who I was planning on meeting at 12 noon for lunch the next day. He’d done some more research and gave me some insight into a high school he thought was a perfect match, so in the morning I headed there first. I’m not going to give it away (because I’m just not and also because things can always change) but once I arrived I knew it was the right place. Plus, the school’s baseball team actually was playing a game during their “Fall Ball” season. It was all exactly what I’d mentally pictured.
The school wasn’t one big building, it was more like a small college campus. It was time-period correct, having opened about 10 years before my guy will go there, and the surrounding neighborhoods were quite correct. I drove around as much as I could, soaking it all in, before thinking “I gotta get going to meet Jeff.” The funny part was, I was in an area I wasn’t familiar with but had done some looking at map sites to figure out the best way to get from Point A to Point B. But, I had no idea how bad traffic would be or how long it would take me to get there. I figured I’d rather get there early than late, so I gave myself 45 minutes.
We were meeting at a pub in the town of Brea, which is on the 57 Freeway, and I was going to have to take surface streets to get there. I could’ve gotten on a couple of freeways but you’re really rolling the dice, in terms of traffic, if you do that. I’d driven quite a ways and it was about five minutes to noon when I began to worry if I’d be really late. Then, the next stop light I came to was the 57 Freeway right where the pub was located. I walked into the place at exactly 12:00.
When I approached the hostess she said, “Are you meeting Jeff?” I was, and I was uncannily right on time.
Jeff and I spent 90 minutes together, enjoying a fine lunch and nonstop conversation. I brought him up to speed on the specifics of the concept and the format for the book, and we talked in generalities for most of the rest of the time. There are some simple “nuts and bolts” things I need to have a firm grasp on, in terms of how amateur baseball works in the area, how it used to work back when my character would be there, and other things as simple as “Do you have American Legion ball here?” or “Do elementary schools have teams?” It was a fantastic conversation and we covered miles of ground. Plus, he handed me a couple of dozen printed pages of stuff he’d found that he thought would be valuable. It was great, and Jeff promised to be an asset for me anytime I had more questions. I’m sure there will be more questions. Probably a lot of them.
After lunch, I had another excursion on my agenda. I went straight back to the PCH at Newport Beach, and went further north, up to Huntington Beach, and for very good reason. Huntington Beach is apt to be a key location in the book, for all sorts of reasons and surfing is not the least of those reasons. Huntington is a big surf spot. Big enough for major competitions to be held there regularly, and the key location for the best surfers is right next to the historic old pier. I had to see it up close. It was right in the sweet spot for what I wanted, and the next big challenge was seeing the old neighborhoods. Bingo! Just what I was hoping for. Another trip well taken.
I cruised around a few other towns, both on and off the beach, before heading back to the hotel for dinner. It was fantastic. And a word about being in an Embassy Suites hotel on a weekend in September: You are apt to be there with six or seven youth soccer teams, who would all be playing in a nearby tournament, along with many of their parents and coaches. That worried me greatly when I first arrived (I crave quiet in a hotel room) but the kids were fantastic, and very polite. The big atrium was full of life and laughter, but once I closed my door I never heard a thing. Two thumbs up.
On Sunday, it was back to the airport and back home. I always get a window seat, basically for any flight, but absolutely for a SoCal flight. You always take off out over the beach and then circle back to head home. And the view rarely disappoints. Just like this one.
And here’s another thing… I’ve written about this before but it probably bears repeating because it was a bit of trivia that made me think, “Oh! Now that makes perfect sense!”
The whole “the” thing with the freeways is very Californian. Basically, people from 49 other states just shake their heads and assume it something Californians made up. Why do they do it? Well, Southern California especially is basically the birthplace of freeways in America. This is where the car culture really got rolling. When they started building the freeways, they gave them all names, based on where they went. You had the Hollywood Freeway, the San Diego Freeway, the Ventura Freeway, the Long Beach Freeway, and many more. When the interstate system came along and the roads got numbers, people were still in the habit of saying “the” before the name, so it stuck. Now the San Diego Freeway is the 405.
As for the trip, all in all, it was not just money well spent, it was time well spent and a great investment in my project. When I went up to Roseau and Warroad, I definitely felt the same way and came out of there extremely energized and fired up. That’s a good thing! If you went on a trip like either one of these and came out of it feeling just like you did when you started, I’d have to think it’s the wrong project.
The writing is going well, too, I think. I’m up to Chapter 4 and have already gone back to the first few I wrote to add more color and specifics after the trip. Both characters are coming to life in my head and that’s something I’ve never done before. I’m finding it fascinating and I think it’s going to be very rewarding in the end. I’ll be a better and more well-rounded writer when I’m done.
Here at the Wilber/Doyle Ranch, it’s been a quiet and pretty dreary week. We’re now stuck in a pattern that brings us thunderstorms interspersed with periods of drizzle or mist. At least it’s no longer 90 and humid. And we know what’s coming ahead, so anytime I can go outside and not get drenched (either by rain or by sweat) I’m okay with it.
Also, look what I got! The new cover for the fire pit is not only round (remember last week’s blog?) it’s also the correct diameter and the perfect height. Slam dunk. And you can see that our new grass is just about all the way in. The rain has helped enormously in that regard.
So much for the furniture delivery guys who swore these things were supposed to only go down halfway to the ground. And be square.
As for the absence of chairs out there, it’s not for lack of trying. We bleached and cleaned the teak set we’ve had for years before I left, and while I was gone Barbara actually sanded everything. What a job she did! The next step is to put a full coat of teak sealant on them, rather than just stain them. If we stain them, we’ll be doing this every year or so. The sealant will leave them looking natural and like new. That’s another thing I’ll be doing instead of being at the track in St. Louis. Can’t wait to get them done.
So that’s about it for this week. All the best to my friends and colleagues at Gateway this weekend. If anyone could buy me a Farotto’s pizza and some toasted ravioli, then have them flash frozen and overnighted to me, that would be great. I’ll sit by the door in anticipation.
As always, if you just read this blog installment and didn’t think “That totally stunk” please hit the”Like” button at the top. A few more “likes” and I win a Ferrari. It may or may not be a 24th-scale die cast.
See you next week!
Bob Wilber, at your service and ready for the rain to stop.