The Holiest road in America

It’s been quite a trek from Delaware spanning 12 days, 2,900 miles, 390 gallons of fuel, 3 cans of kitty wet food and a near encounter with some cannabis (don’t blame me, it was everywhere in Tahoe!)  Mr. Butters was a trooper and the kind of cat I would simply disappear with if he wasn’t Tessa’s.  He now goes to join Tessa in his 5th home in a brief 13 months.  Bless his soul, he can roll with the punches!

Here we are back in San Francisco and Bessie is parked hardly a stone’s throw from the Pacific.  We’ve scouted and scoured for Tessa’s apartment and it’s come together quite nicely.  Now, we’re heading down the coast to Los Angeles via California Highway 1.  It’s the scenic route and as I learned earlier today, the most Holiest of Holy roads in America, especially when one is maneuvering a 38 foot motor home along its ribbon of asphalt. It can be a religious experience.

“Sometimes driving the coach can be a religious experience”

Those thoughtful CalTrans engineers who were likely raised by parents with beards and Birkenstocks certainly planned enough Scenic Vista Turnouts along this amazing road.  Here’s another example we came across:

It all began some 15 years ago in Hockessin, Delaware.  Our cleaning lady, Alejandra (defender of mankind) introduced us to her friend, Jesus (pronounced Hey-Zues) who happened to be a gardener.  Since we had an acre of land and I worked a normal 9-to-5, Jesus came in handy.  I still remember those Saturday mornings when I’d hear JoJami say “Eric, Jesus is here!” and I’d think to myself “Lord, I’m not ready to go just yet!” and then I’d realize it was only the gardener.

This all being said, as we plied our way along this beautiful road, there were more than a few times when I exclaimed the name of our gardener and not always in the Spanish pronunciation.  Now, these exclamations may have been in response to the sheer beauty of the moment or the sheer terror of piloting a 35,000 pound vehicle along its edge.  But either way, it brought me closer to my Maker and that’s the most you can ask for on the Holiest of Holy Roads.

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