Reluctantly I packed and left what claimed to be the 5th Motel in the world. The Dolphin Bay Motel was idyllic but Prismo has draconian no smoking ordinances and I was missing my inalienable right to alienate my body. Too bad that the second amendment doesn’t have a well regulated militia smoking cigarettes not schoolchildren.
I’d arranged to go see Scott’s workshop so I did.
The dog greeted me first yapping defensively then Scott turned down the pounding Rock-n-Roll music and showed me around. He had two Jet boats (propellor inboard, more efficient) that he was rebuilding and a vintage Land Cruiser that was getting blessed with a Cummings Diesel truck engine. The MG A was there too and I took the opportunity to get a picture.
Scott had taken up dancing as physical therapy after a bad motorcycle crash and was hooked. He showed me some photos from his sprint racing days (like stock cars but without the wings) . The work on the Land Cruiser was immaculate and brought to mind ‘Project Binky’ a YouTube favourite of mine (https://www.youtube.com/user/badobsessionmsport) about the glories of solving mechanical problems of your own making.
I saw the back of Scott to let him get on, he would have been happy to chat longer and apologised for not having made me coffee and cautioned me on the dangers of the Pacific Coast Highway then wished me well.
Where the mountains meet the ocean the road clings to the precarious slippery slopes that threaten to, and often do, slide into the churning waters below. Fortunately and unfortunately I got stuck behind a truck hauling massive chunks of rock. The traffic queued up behind and we all processed together, 20 or so frustrated faster motorcyclists assembled behind but I wasn’t too bothered, all the more time to enjoy the view.
Pulling off eventually at a scenic stop, they are few and far between on the twisty bits where flat ground is at a premium, it struck me that we all were taking the same pictures from exactly the same spot of exactly the same things. Only the weather and posers changed. It would not surprise me one bit if a Chinese tourist, and I met a few very jovial ones, has pictures of this squirrel, I’d even wager that he gets snapped many times a day.
Carmel is twee, a ‘Village’ with shops selling Rolexes and art where you need a permit to wear high heels, there are no street addresses or chain restaurants. Despite or perhaps as a part of trying so hard to be a perfect model the people are friendly and engaging, even throwing me a ‘football’ on the beach, it feels like a town playing the part of a perfect town in a movie about a perfect town, perhaps fitting given its former mayor, Clint Eastwood.
I ate and drank at the most pub like venue that I could find, Mulligans, a golf themed (Pebble Beach is around the coast) Irish pub with golf themed clientele.
Le Mans man 