Mother's Beach: 7/10
My alarm went off, and my stupid sleepy dumb ass turned it off and continued snoring. In my defense, I was just really fucking tired. So I woke up at six, and when the realization hit, yelled, "Oh, shit!", took my medicine, and left.
Because as any good road tripper knows, you always sleep in your road trip clothes. Duh. And my beach bag was already in my car-- duh-- so I just filled my water and left, though the idea of leaving when the sun was already up and people were on the roads filled me with absolute disgust, but you know what? Why treat Dani with kid gloves her first trip if I'm going to be riding her hard every other time? So I'm not saying to drive her into the ground. I'm saying my thought process was more "don't set a precedent."
She drove really well, actually. I stopped to pee-- I know!-- because I thought maybe she could use a break. I was really worried she wouldn't start, and I'd get stranded in Victorville. Christ what a boring city. Who wants to get stranded there? And that was in the sweet spot of "too far for a tow truck to drive me to Vegas" and "too far from Ventura", so I had no choice but to hope and pray to anyone listening that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be bad.
Thank God, Dani started, and we were off once again. I reported the good news to my sister and brother-in-law, and David reminded me of the curry promise I had given him. For those who didn't read that post, or just need a refresher: when David picked me up from Ventura when my timing belt broke, I promised him Coco Ichibanya-- his favorite curry place-- every time I went to California. So not only was I going to have less beach time in the first place, because I slept in, but I also had to pit stop at his curry place. I got there twenty minutes before they opened.
AND THERE WAS A LINE.
FINALLY ACQUIRED CURRY:
When I got to Dani, I turned her on, and she fucking started slowly. I was like, really? Now we're just finding shit to fail? I had your whole electrical system checked, asshole.
She turned on, and, to be fair, it wasn't like it was a hassle for her to start. It just started slower than usual, but well within the bounds Alex had told me about. BUT STILL.
I headed to the beach. Mother's Beach, specifically, and then I realized: it was in Oxnard. If you've been reading this blog for a while, you'll remember Oxnard is where my timing belt broke and a mechanic bullied me into thinking I would break my car. Yet there I was, zooming on the freeway, and it occurred to me that I was getting off on the exact exit I was on when it all went down. I was going to either the same beach, or one next to it, I was never sure. If anyone can tell me, let me know.
I almost wanted to find another one. It scared me so much. But this was my chance for a redo, my chance to remove some of the taint of Oxnard. So Dani and I took that exit, but the whole time I was chanting all the differences between then and now: my timing belt is fixed, my transmission is new, you have gas, I don't have to pee, you were cleared to take this trip.
And we made it!
I may have caused a teeny traffic jam because I found this primo parking spot right next to the beach, but I had to wait for the people to leave, so I backed the whole parking lot up. Please, you want me to leave that prime spot? For what, someone else to take? As if.
I only had about an hour and a half until I was going to go visit my uncle, which isn't my preferred amount of beach time, but I like hanging out with him, time feels differently at the beach, it wasn't my favorite beach, plus I was the reason I had so little time. It wasn't that big a deal, and my uncle is leaving soon to travel for a long time. I want to visit him while I can, and then I'll focus more intensely on the beaches. So the time I waited on a parking spot actually saved me time because then I didn't have to drive around, increasingly disheartened that I didn't find a spot, or find one that's farther away or whatever the case. I got a spot that was maybe like five steps from the sand. How incredibly lucky was that?
Back to Mother's Beach. The beach was calm. Gentle swells. Touted online as one of California's calmest beaches... uh, it really was. My uncle later reminded me of ocean tides and conditions that affect the waves, but regardless, Mother's Beach is very popular because of the gentleness, so it would have been that way anyway.
As someone who loves their ass getting kicked-- like, seriously, I can't work out normally; it has to be something that'll kick my ass, I can't just do reps-- I prefer to stand in the ocean, waist-deep, and use the Pacific as my Magic 8 Ball, but all that depends on the waves being strong enough to either push me over or make me unsteady. This was just... blah.
It would be perfect for my niece, who is four. Just not for me. Still, that does not negate the niceness of the weather, and the amazing smell and sound of the waves in front of me. The way the sand felt on my feet was like coming home.
Then it was around the time I was supposed to meet my uncle, so I left the beach, where I still developed a nice tan despite the time frame I was there for, but then he texted and said he was running late. I hadn't eaten all day, so even though we were going to get Mexican food, I wanted something to tide me over. I remembered California has some weird ass fruits, so I went on a produce hunt.
Pluots, Mexican Medojol (?) papayas, Strawberry papayas... the list of weird fruits went on and on, and the list of items I added to my cart grew too. I wanted to try them all. I got a peach and granola bars so I could eat in the car, and holy fuck. How are the peaches better than the regular ones in Las Vegas? How are they so much more delicious? God, even my water was cool and crisp, and I guzzled half my bottle in one sitting before my uncle told me he was home.
I also put all of that food on my private Snapchat story, like I was some goddamn asmr mukbang, except way more talking and slurping. RIP everyone in there, I'm sorry. I swear I don't normally eat like a goddamn slob.
I went to my uncle's house, where we ate some grapes and he showed me his latest DIY progress-- the kitchen cabinets; he wants them to match the paint colors he put on the wall, but the paint he tried was too orange. It's rough when you want quality and the best work.
We got Lalo's, a place where I'm convinced the food could never be found anywhere else, then went back to his house and gossiped like old women in his backyard, my second favorite place to be. Did you know an ice cream truck runs through his neighborhood? Like I'm in middle school again, and my mom hadn't split my lip yet.
I was supposed to leave at like 6 or 7, but I didn't leave until 8. What was the point of leaving early if I was still going to end up night driving anyway? It didn't make sense, so I stayed, and my uncle pulled out some stuff he had found while he had visited my grandfather the week before. Old photos of my dad, my grandma, some progress reports of school-- my uncle aced being cooperative. What even is that for a progress report? Calm down, 1970s. No progress reports of my father's, just tons of pictures of him as a child. His frown becomes more and more pronounced as the years go on.
Before I left, my uncle did his tradition of packing me a bag of backyard produce, loaded with lemons and Maracuya, which he watched me eat whole and with no sugar, with an expression of disgusted awe, because those things are extremely sour and are also the best fruit in the world. My uncle wanted to know what kind of adult could tolerate lactose and all the acidic foods in the world, but couldn't process supplements.
It was dark when I finally left, and I hated it so much. The California curves + oncoming headlights + 90mph? I'm always convinced I'm going to go SPLAT! and then become a statistic for speeding. I was also worried I'd get stranded in the middle of the night and no one would be able to answer their phone, so I'd sleep in my car and end up in some horror film. Or become Maura Murray. Her disappearance spooks and enthralls me, so every time I road trip, I remember her.
I sailed through the drive home. The hills were harder to see, but I could definitely feel them. The way I'd lose speed but kick forward in RPMs was anxiety-inducing because I was forever convinced it was my transmission breaking, and I'd have to drive 20mph in the dark with no hazards. Fuck.
Triumphantly, Dani and I made it home with no problems.
Well... Okay. She'd been doing this noise for a while, and I'd always chalked it up to some city noise, because it didn't make sense in the scheme of "car noises" that I'd always had in my mind, but it became especially prevalent at night when driving continuously.
My car makes a slight whine when she accelerates. I've run through the various memories of this in my head, and I can't think of a single similarity. When she's warm, or cold, when I've been driving for an hour or just turned her on, when I'm turning or not turning... Of course, I can't be totally sure, since I just now started paying attention, but I am positive that it's sporadic. It doesn't happen every time I accelerate, and it's very very slight, so I doubted I'd be able to replicate it for my mechanics if Dani won't even replicate it for me.
I slept a grand total of five hours that night. I went to work the same day-- so, today, the 7th-- extremely exhausted. Got off work early, and went to visit my favorite people.
I walked in the door, and Alex went, "Don't tell me you had a problem."
Which for some reason was so funny to me. I go to California, walk in, and he assumes it's about a problem. That made me laugh because, well, he's not wrong to think that, is he? So I told him that's not it, and I explained that I was just there to share the good news, but also to ask about this weird noise?
He told me that it's hard to pinpoint without some similarities, and also without looking at it. Alex gave me some tests to run on my car next time I hear the noise: check over everything that's running at the same time-- headlights? AC? radio?-- swerve the car slightly in the lane-- does the whine change pitch with the steering wheel shifting?
So I'm going to run those tests. He reminded me about my hazards, said he was worried about me driving without them, so that's also a thing I'll get fixed, I guess. And then I remembered my car will squeal if I turn on the AC before the car is properly warmed up, so I brought that up too. My wallet hates me, but my car will thank me.
"Ah," Alex said. "Your belt needs to be adjusted. But you have an automatic tensioner, so your belt is probably just old. I don't think we've changed that one yet."
Goddamn it. Is there anything that will not need to be changed? The unfortunate answer is no. All I think about when I hear that there's something new to do to Dani is Shrek's "for five minutes" scene in Shrek 2 and Mr Incredible's "I feel like the maid. I just cleaned up this mess! Can we keep it clean for... for ten minutes?" scene.
Dani, will you ever let me know peace?
The short answer is no. The long answer is that I'm getting a grueling and expensive course into car maintenance, both prevention and emergent, and like I keep repeating: this knowledge will carry through my life. Oddly enough, it reminds me of my braces. Stupid things were 4k, and I paid for them myself, so you bet your ass I wear my retainer at least three times a week. I am not wasting it. Same thing with Dani, I think. The universe knows I'll only learn if I experience it firsthand. The universe holds me hostage with one simple fact, however:
I love my stupid fucking car.
Tune in (ha! like tune up... get it?) for the next update, when I bring my car in-- either Thursday if I'm off work early enough, or Saturday morning-- to find out what the actual fuck that whine/squeal is, and also the potential hazards fix!
Comments
Post a Comment