Skip to main content

Goin' to California | Part 2

In this episode - Goin' to California Prt. 2 . . .


   

"If you ever plan to motor west

Travel my way take the highway that's the best

Get your kicks on Route 66."


If you remember, we left our heroes passing through Flagstaff, Arizona don’t forget Winona, we saw Kingman, Barstow, and San Bernardino . . .


Our California trip included Los Angeles, Hollywood, then we cruised north - up Highway One, past Vandenberg Air force Base, through Big Sur, and across to Yosemite National Park.


Stunning California landscapes with unparalleled photo opportunities. Smooth sailing until - we pulled into Oakhurst, CA. on Route 41. The Pinto’s tiny four-cylinder engine seemed to be losing power.


“We better check the oil. Hmmm, a couple of quarts low.”


“Hate to break the news, I’m thinking Yosemite and San Francisco are out of the question. Our California cruising days are over.”


We studied the map for the most direct route home. 


“How about Las Vegas? This trip has been a gamble from the start so why not return home through Vegas.”

Well, we did. A beautiful clear day, windows down, cruising the Vegas strip our mucous colored Ford Pinto, The Mean Green Booger Machine just stopped running.


“What’s wrong?”


“Damn! I think we threw a rod. It won’t start. We’re screwed. What a piece of junk, now what?”


“That’s it, let’s find a junkyard,” said Nathan.


“I agree let’s find a junkyard and sell this heap for scrap.”


“We can’t, we have too much money wrapped up in this car.”


So, once again - the booger machine was towed - this time to a junkyard. We had found a replacement engine in a wrecked Pinto which the junkyard mechanic agreed to install for $600.00 cash.


“Hah, we sure as hell don’t have $600.00, now what?” exclaimed Nathan.


“I have an idea, let’s see if we can borrow the money from Avco Financial Services. My girlfriend in Macomb works at Avco, maybe she can help.”


“Let me get this straight," said the finance officer, "two young guys from a small town in the Midwest, in Las Vegas for the first time, want to borrow $600.00 cash to buy an engine; from a junkyard; for a Ford Pinto - Righhht?”


“That’s right. Since we began this trip we’ve replaced the exhaust system, three new tires, a new water pump, a fan belt, and a new left shock absorber. We can’t afford to junk this car now."


Needless to say, we had a difficult time getting the loan officer to buy our story. So I begged him, “Please call your Macomb office, speak to my girlfriend, she will verify our story.”


Amazingly enough, they loaned us the money!


We spent a couple of days in Vegas while they swapped out the engine. Our first motel stay throughout the entire trip. Believe me, Vegas in the early 1980s, if you looked hard enough, you could find a very cheap motel. Now, I’m not here to endorse the particular part of town we stayed in, we met some pretty weird, scary lookin’ folks.


Finally, we were “On the Road Again.” By now we were excited to hear that song on the radio. We were finally headed home.


Interstate 15 out of Las Vegas to I-70 through the mountains of Colorado, once we reached the plains of Kansas we were home free - or so we thought. 


“What else could possibly go wrong now?” I laughed.


My listening friends never ask that question aloud. It’s a curse!


Crossing the plains of Kansas the synchronizer gears in the transmission went out.


“You’ve got to be kidding!” Not an exact quote. “We’re not stopping again.”


As long as we kept moving, with the 4-speed transmission in fourth gear we were fine, (Oh, by the way, reverse and first gear - were gone). The new engine had plenty of power but inevitably nature calls and you must stop for gas.


So each time we stopped for fuel, and some food, it was my job to nurse the transmission through the gears, accelerating slowly, to keep the transmission from completely going out.


There is a happy ending. The booger machine limped home.


Nathan’s Dad found a replacement transmission, and Nathan drove that car for another four years. Thankfully, The Mean Green Booger Machine never suffered a rear-end collision.


And we did get some amazing photographs! What a trip.


This is Patrick Ball, thanks for listening. See you in the next episode . . .

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Believing Is Seeing

🎄 In this episode, Believing Is Seeing . . . It's December, we bustle, we wrap, and we dash. We sort life into boxes— myths  here,  to-dos  in a stash. We whisper of Santa (adult code: “Not Real”), but hold on one minute—let’s rethink this whole deal. For the stories we cherish, the movies we stream, hold more truth in their sparkle than we grown-ups may deem. So hop in this sleigh and hold on real tight— We’re chasing down Santa by the glow of his light! Scott Calvin once landed in the North Pole’s cold air, with elves, cocoa, and snow everywhere. He squinted and frowned—“This just  cannot  be so!” (Like thinking tangled lights will detangle if we  blow .) Then Judy the Elf gave a cocoa so steaming,  and said something simple . . . yet surprisingly gleaming: Seeing’s not believing—no, that’s not the key. "Believing is seeing!"   Just trust, and  you’ll  see!” Kids don’t need a map or a satellite screen to know Santa’s workshop is her...

Stamps and Snow

In this episode, Stamps and Snow . . .   You don’t usually walk into the local Post Office expecting a time warp . . . but here we are. All we wanted were stamps for this year's Christmas cards— yes, the old-fashioned paper ones that require licking, sticking, and hoping the Postal Service is feeling ambitious this week. But holiday errands have a talent for slowing you down, almost like the universe whispering, “Relax. You’re not getting out of this line any faster anyway.” So we waited. And while we waited, we talked (Are you surprised?). Because the Post Office is one of the few places where people still look up from their phones long enough to talk . . . Maybe it's because they're holding packages. It’s the modern town square: part civic duty, part free entertainment, part sociology experiment. The discussion began with holiday specials streaming on Netflix, Paramount+, and other services during this time of year. One gentleman who has lived in Vista since 1958 told us,...

Night Before Christmas

I n this episode, Night Before Christmas . . .  (In the spirit of Edgar Albert Guest) I’ve wrestled with the tangled lights the way I always do— With just enough patience left to see the project through. I climb the ladder carefully; the years have taught me how. To take my time with every step and keep a steady brow. We hang the faded ornaments I’ve known since I was small, the chipped, the cracked, the tilted ones—I love them best of all. Santa’s lost a bit of paint, the stars’ leaning right, but oh, it casts a holy glow across the room tonight. The kitchen hums with activity, with laughter, and with cheer, as voices drift like echoes from a long-forgotten year. The floor is strewn with paper scraps, the clock is ticking slow, As Christmas finds its own sweet pace and sets our house aglow. The hallway grows a little still; the lights are dimmed, and low, Small shoes are lined in messy pairs to wait for morning’s snow. The fire's warm, the room is full, the world is deep and wide,...

A Holiday Reflection–Mother's Love

In this episode,  How a Mother’s Love Built My Memories– A Holiday Reflection As this holiday season approaches and the world buzzes with shopping, planning, and busy schedules, I find myself embracing something wonderfully simple: taking a moment to pause. Not to check off a list or recharge devices, but to breathe deeply, remember fondly, and honor the person and place that have shaped my sense of home long before I had the words for it. This year, after regaining my strength from a lingering post-travel fog, my mind didn’t wander to exotic destinations or future adventures. It drifted backward—across oceans and time—to Cuba, Illinois, in the early 1960s, and to the woman whose love built the foundation of my world: Mauricette Elaine (Bontemps) Ball. My Mom . We came to Cuba after leaving La Rochelle, France, in 1959—a transition so dramatic I only appreciate its enormity now. My mother, barely in her mid-twenties, stepped off that plane and into the Midwest with a courage that s...