When “topless” saves lives

Early in the morning I take the bus to the Alamo City Office. My luggage buries passengers’ feet several times. When I arrive at the car hire station, a bored Latino tells me that my reservation is at the airport. I check again. Nope, it’s right here. Airport would be 2 hours by bus. He reluctantly organises something, grumbles that he doesn’t have a car, that I haven’t printed out the voucher, that my board wouldn’t fit in this class. He obviously gained his customer service licence at a tourist camp in Afghanistan. I’ll definitely be taking a printer with me on my next trip around the world. This guy is driving me up the wall and I’m about to go for his throat. The only thing stopping me: Bush would probably give me a medal for it.

Without realising it, he’s saving his life by going topless. The only car available is a convertible, Chrysler PT Cruiser Turbo. I struggle not to shout yippee before I’m out of earshot. I make up for it at the next junction. A passer-by grins. The board barely fits in the back seat, but hey: I’m driving through California and the Grand Canyon in a convertible. Bull’s eye. Up onto the 101, over to Highway 1. There’s probably no wind at Waddell Beach today, says a windsurfer. On southwards. In Monterey, I pick up some much-needed items for the rest of the journey: sun cream, a baseball cap and an audio cable. The new system has an aux-in port. From now on it’s MP3s à la carte.

I make my arms even darker while I cruise along Highway 1 to 2Raumwohnung and Console/Tocotronic Freiburg 2.0. Nothing could be better now. At Big Sur, every road really does end at a toll barrier $5 and up. Stupid, now I have to drive on, poor me :-) The PT is a real blast. No, I’m not a car fetishist at all. But I’ve always liked the outside of this one. The clean design continues inside. It doesn’t roar like a stag, but it runs like a rabbit and swallows like a woodpecker. I will endeavour to find a passenger.

Further south, I pass a beach where huge elephant seals are ramming their tusks down each other’s throats. And all because of the females… Very amusing, especially in direct comparison with the human females on the next beach. The males kite the waves while the females puff away bored. Maybe you should save all that and just bite the ear of the person sitting next to you on your next date…

Shortly afterwards, I pass Hearst Castle. The best things in life are free. Exorbitant prices on everything, even taking pictures. I move on. For the second time in three weeks of driving, I arrive too early. My host Gregg is still working, so I’m also typing. The backyard is colourful and full of plants, pleasant chaos. Birds, dogs and cats in between. They all want their cuddles. And they get it. In the evening, I go to the Farmers Market with Gregg and his friends. Good food, nice bars. Live music and good conversation. I don’t have a stay for tomorrow yet. And that’s in Las Vegas, with a 9-hour drive beforehand. Shit.