It was the end of a long, dusty drive from the San Francisco Bay Area in a blazing autumn sun. Seeing our state song by song on Day 1 of this two week road trip is a dream to me. Starting out from the infamous city of free love and birthplace of incredible musical history, we then cruised through a Merle Haggard song by passing through Kern County. Descending over The Grapevine, the lights of Los Angeles glimmered in the distance as The Doors lulled us into a tale about an LA Woman.
We stopped for a bite to fill our weary bellies at an old school Arby's, standing proud with their tall 10-gallon neon hat boasting about their beef. I asked an employee when that location originated and he replied "40 years ago." The quaint guitar sounded in my head as I imagined how many travelers had passed through and who they might have been. How many kids had been enchanted by that old hat? Lonely truckers, families, girlfriends and boyfriends.
There were no alligator lizards in the air for us as the sun was long set, but there was a muggy evening smell to the night. Then it was back on the road and headed up the 101 to a Santa Barbara suburb to take care of some business.
A bit of musical trivia I learned tonight; America sang of the purple rain long before Prince rocked it out.
It's been a day, so I bid you goodnight.