Exited Frisco spectacularly via the Golden Gate fuelled on French Toast and a Dead set live from the Oklahoma State Fair in ‘72. Nearly ran out of gas at the point where the wine country ends and the artichoke farms begin, managed to gas up at a remote outpost where I rather severely needed to use the toilet of which there was only one and happened to time it perfectly as the second I opened the door a whole throng of people were waiting. Almost left the seat up by mistake, until I saw that the person next in line was a woman, who happened to be of tremendous girth, and I quickly corrected myself and she cried ‘what a gent!’ which was kind. I then went out and traded places with De Campo who badly needed to go and she didn’t return for a very long time, I was quite concerned, turns out she was waiting for the lady to conclude her business, so when she came out De Campo was a little frightened and she hasn’t been the same since. Somehow I feel like I contributed to her state by putting the seat down like I‘m an accessory to the fact or something.
Didn’t get to our cabin in the Redwoods until after dark and the place was deserted save for a silhouette inside Cabin A craning for a better look at the latest arrivals. We drove down to check out our cabin, situated in a row of other equally cute ones. No note or indication of what to do whatsoever. We walked back up where we came and found the office. The sign on the door said SORRY. We tried the general store next to the highway. ‘After hours try Cabin A’ it said on the door . We got back in the car and drove to Cabin A. The room was lit by the blue light from a TV. A man with a porn moustache took his time getting to the door. “The key…is under the mat,” he drawled. I don’t think he had any pants on.
“Do you know where we can get something to eat at this time?” asked De Campo.
He mumbled about two restaurannts, both of which he couldn't, not for the life of him remember the name of, I figured he was on the grass. We ended up going to the place where the directions made the most sense to us, down the road a quarter of a mile, located opposite the world’s largest Paul Bunyan (lumberjack du jour) we even got a picture of the big feller the next day in case you didn't believe me.