Apr. 13th, 2011

Start at 3:35

Apr. 13th, 2011 09:23 pm

This post is dedicated to the Brazilian couple who picked us up in the middle of nowhere on Highway 1 after I blew out my front tire while running over a rock, and had absolutely no service on my cell phone.

People probably have seen the photos I put on my facebook, but the part of the weekend that was not photo-documented was interesting as well. Davina and I left Hearst Castle looking for a restaurant to eat at dinner, and we were driving an incredibly dangerous area of the highway that twisted and turned along a rock slide area, with the other side being the ocean. As majestic as that may sound, it also resulted in no cell phone signals being available.

Luckily this Brazilian couple stopped and picked us up to take us to the nearest town. It was the incredibly tiny "town" known as Gorda, which consisted of a lodge which no one stayed at, a general store that wasn't open, and a gas station. The phone call to AAA itself was an adventure, since they couldn't figure out where Gorda was on the map, and I kept getting passed back and forth between Northern California AAA and Southern California AAA.

While on the phone I did talk to a guy named Will, who is a 73 year old biker who biked all the way from Fort Lauderdale, Florida to California. He needed to use the phone to tell one of his colleagues that he didn't need a ride to Monterey since it was only 60 miles away and he could bike it. Now that's hardcore.

I offered to buy the Brazilian couple dinner for the inconvenience we caused them, but there were no restaurants around. So then I tried to give them some money, but they didn't want to take it. They were incredibly nice and owe them a debt of gratitude.

It was cold outside, at least for California. It was around the mid 30 degrees Fahrenheit, and all I had on was my track jacket. Davina and I scurried periodically between the laundry room that happened to be unlocked and the pay phone, to make sure we didn't miss the tow truck guy. While we waited, about 5 raccoons were walking around and made me somewhat nervous. When the tow truck guy arrived, he also made me nervous because he had this odd aura about him, almost like a stereotypical serial killer from a horror movie.

Luckily he ended up being a pretty cool guy, although he told us there's nothing open to eat in the area. No Denny's, truck stop or fast food restaurants, nothing. This pretty much bummed us out because we didn't eat dinner. We drove 30 miles south to San Simeon to have a bowl of cheerios and sleep at the Quality Inn.

The next morning we had to drive about 45 miles south to get my tire fixed in the town of San Luis Obispo. Then we drove up to San Jose. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the missing written piece of the puzzle about what happened between Hearst Castle and San Jose.



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