It’s late at night on a Friday, one of many typical Friday nights during the salad days of my HS and college life. I’m in the backseat of my friend’s Pathfinder pick-up which is cruising effortlessly through the dark and foggy, yet thankfully familiar, Tagaytay highway heading for the beach. The collective energy in the car is almost palpable: the windows are rolled all the way down, all thoughts of school and curfew have been cast away, Don Henley’s Boys of Summer is blasting from the tape deck, and we’re singing along with him at the top of our lungs while the cool breeze dances along in our hair.
It didn’t always matter where we were going because getting there was already half the fun. So when it was decided that we would be driving to
The road trip gods had gifted us with the perfect sunny
summer day. Being the most experienced and confident driver of the group, Colo volunteered to take the wheel. I rode shotgun as navigator and Therese happily took the back seat. We would pick up Katrina and Lizzy in the city. The Chevy Trailblazer rental we picked up the night before was loaded with five women and five women’s worth of stuff with room to spare. Lizzy supplied the junk food and drinks and I supplied the tunes from my iPod with a playlist made especially for this occasion. My stack of printed Google maps had been discarded and stuffed under my seat, in favor of the infinitely more high-tech Magellan GPS which we named ‘Maggie’. California
The plan was simple: we would drive up to Pt. Reyes, do an overnight in Petaluma, then continue on to Portland, OR, stay a couple of nights, then on to our final destination in Vancouver, BC, from where we’d take a plane back to San Francisco a week later. And as with most major decisions in life, we were faced with two options: take the longer, more rewarding scenic route via Highway 1 or the shorter but less picturesque Interstate 5. I suggested we take I5 all the way past CA/OR border, then veer west to drive the scenic route along the fabled
But that wasn’t what happened. You see, Highway 1 which is also called the
It doesn’t matter how many times I do it, crossing the
to be continued...