Eddy Boston One step out of time.

Note: This post is from September 6, 2008

Today I woke up early and went to see the Great Reno Balloon Race, or at least the tail end of it. I didn't wake up in time for the "Dawn Patrol" event, which is supposedly spectacular, but I saw some hot-air balloons flying against the blue sky. Very pretty, with a background soundtrack coming from big speakers mounted on trucks. Peaceful from a distance, but controlled by fiery infernos and fickle gusts of wind. It was a family-friendly affair, with food booths and tethered balloon rides for the kids. I had a corn dog.

The balloon race took place at Rancho San Rafael Park, on the outskirts of Reno. On my way out, I stopped by the Wilbur D. May Museum, which is also there. I don't know anything about Wilbur D. May other than that he was a rancher. Part of the museum is his "trophy room" -- meaning hunting trophies -- which was very disturbing. I'm no animal rights activist, but something about seeing a wild beautiful lion turned into a rug with a head was very wrong. In Rome there is a church where all the decorations are made of human bones, but for some reason this was worse. I think it's because of the presentation: the expressions are designed to look fierce, but they really look pained and sad, as if the animals are crying out for help; then the idea that they are "trophies," meant to demonstrate the prowess of the hunter (aided, of course, by a whole bunch of firepower and trained dogs). I didn't like it. The balloons were nice, though.

Next, Christine and I left Reno and headed up to Lake Tahoe. And when I say up, I mean up. We took Rt 425, which brought us to an elevation over 9,000 feet. It was as steep as any road in Colorado, and I think we actually went higher. From where the road peaked, it was another rapid descent to the lake itself. We drove Rt 25 along Lake Tahoe until we reached Tahoe City. (And yes, I sometimes call it Taco City. I like tacos.) The lake is dramatically scenic: blue and big and very very still, at least on the day we were there. I think it is so still because it is so deep. We stopped for some McDonald's Chicken Selects with honey mustard sauce, then continued back on Rt 80 and into California.

In California we encountered the worst road conditions of the trip. For pretty much the entire 200-mile length of I-80 in California, it was like driving over a cheese grater. For a state that is famous for its "car culture" and its highways, I would have expected better upkeep for the roads. I kept worrying that all the bumps, shakes, and rattles would damage the valuable paintings and guitars in the back of the car, or even cause potentially dangerous tire damage, which would be especially bad on the steep roads coming down from Tahoe towards the ocean.

We stopped off in Sacramento, the capital of California. It was a Saturday, so not much governing was going on, and we did not see Arnold. What we did see was a whole bunch of really sketchy characters. What a dump that city is! We passed a lot of people on the streets, and every single one of them looked as if they had just escaped from a mental institution. I hope those aren't the people running the state!

Finally, finally, against all odds, we made it to San Francisco! As we sat in the first traffic jam of our trip, five miles from our destination, we could see the Pacific Ocean. I'm not sure if the Atlantic is "sea" and the Pacific is "shining sea" or if it's the other way around, but we have crossed from one to the other, and the water was looking pretty darn shiny in the late afternoon sun.

A little while later, we pulled onto 26th Street, across from our apartment. I wrote down the final mileage: 3716.0. We gave Etta the Jetta a pat on the dashboard, expressing thanks, admiration, and kudos for a job well done. We found where the real estate agent had left the keys. We unlocked the door and entered our new place. We have, as yet, no furniture, no real jobs, and not a whole lot we want to do except pop some champagne. And rest.

Cheers from California.

-Eddy Boston