L.A. to Washougal

"How many days do you want to drive it in?" I asked my dad on speaker phone at a stoplight in Ventura.

"Well, at minimum, three but I would like to do more than that...I'm looking at flights right now into Burbank.  They are dirt cheap.  60$ one way with tax."

"I'm all for more days.  Three days would be a schlep.  Plus, the Syncro doesn't like I-5 much.  Lets take our time up the 1, or go up east through Death Valley and the Sierras."

"In December?  Are you fucking kidding me?  I'm not flying down from Washington to spend more time in cold weather. I want to see palm trees and eucalyptus groves."

"Ha I guess you're right.  Lets do the 1 then."

"Cool.  Tim and I will fly down on the 20th and we'll head back up to Washougal for Christmas.  This will be a blast."

As planned,  I picked them up at the Burbank airport a few days later and we headed north.  We took our time meandering up Route 1. Surfing, hiking and skateboarding, we made a few hundred miles each day.  At night,  we crammed into the back of the van and had snoring contests.

Picture this, three six footers (I'm 6'3, Tim's 6'8 and my dad's 6'1) in VW van, listening to the Grateful Dead and eating at taco trucks.

December denial.

A surf session in Bolinas.

Jalama Beach.

Shred sticks.

Could be anywhere in Latin America, but no, its Lincoln Heights.


The Channel Islands.

We left the bulk of the driving for the last day and made it back to Washougal early Christmas morning.  I couldn't say exactly when, because Tim and I were asleep in the backseat.

Some memories are better captured on 35mm film.

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