California Adventure Day One

How many times do you hear someone say I'd do that if I could make the time, or I'd do that if it made financial sense?

We bought our son, Ross, a Honda del Sol for his first car. His part of the contract is to take care of the insurance, gas, and maintenance. I'd made the same arrangement with my two older sons, and it worked out well.

Good choice. He can only have one buddy in the car. No voices from the back seat taunting, "Go ahead and punch it, you chickenshit!" And the top comes off and stores in the truck in a very simple way so that motors and pullies don't foul and require mechanic's fees. Father and son had been studying the car, researching accessories, chatting with on-line del Sol clubs... John (Father) starts thinking he'd like one of these for himself. Cheap to buy since they are twelve or more years old, cheap to insure, and fun to drive in the nice weather.

Out came the notebook computers and the searches through Yahoo Autos, Auto Trader and Craigslist... resources I can't remember to name. The search was on for the low mileage, unmodified, always garaged candidate. Not easy. They are all over the country, and it's rare to find what you want in the small corner of the country we live in.

Found one on Auto Trader in Tucson, AZ. Sold before we could push the "send" button on the email form. Found one in Portland on Yahoo Autos... a 1995 V-tech with automatic transmission in red and only 51,000 miles. Pounced on it within one hour of the ad's posting. Sold already! Found one on eBay in San Francisco... 1997 V-tech with 5-speed transmission and 42,000 miles. Checked out at Carfax as geniune... but got my fingers tangled up at the last-minute bidding and someone got the last bid in behind me, pushing me out. Just as well, I feel more comfortable with a set price and a chance to actually see what I'm buying.
Two more slipped by, until I spotted one on craigslist just 20 minutes after posting. 1997 S with 72,000 miles in Vogue Silver... sounded very good. I wrote: "If this car is as described will pay your asking price in cash. Please call." The owner did call, from Morgan Hill, California, and talked to John on the phone for awhile. Randy said he couldn't imagine why anyone would travel so far to buy an economy car. And we should bring actual cash because he was wary of money order scams and it's interstate and all that.

"If you really want to do this, I'll make it happen," I said to John.

Well, the dogs go to the kennel next time. They really bossed Ross around and didn't let him sleep much. You gotta be firm with em, and he doesn't have the management skills.
But the house looks ok, other than a clean up in the utility room (I expected that).
The flights were $60 each way... that's one reason we took on the adventure. We had to fly into SFO instead of SJC because San Jose would have cost $225. Big difference. So I studied the CalTrain and BART maps. You take BART to Millbrae, then get on CalTran (missed the first one while wrestling with the ticket machine) all the way to Morgan Hill. It will take you to Gilroy if you want to go that far.
You get a good look at the cities (used to be towns) going south... Burlingame, Belmont, Redwood City... right through Stanford University... I think Menlo Park looks the best. Toney. Then Santa Clara, San Jose and through some pretty terrible looking rural area.

Lots of grafitti along the route (except in Menlo Park, of course). Several giraffes... what is that about?

Randy, and his wife were still scratching their heads after John tested the car, handed over the cash and accepted the paperwork. "I still can't believe anyone would go to this much trouble for an economy car." John said business is slow and he was bored.
As good an explanation as any.
We found a brew pub in Morgan Hill and had a pint there. Around the corner was one of the most sincere restaurants I've ever encountered. I can't remember the name, but it's a bungalow style house. The front rooms are the dining rooms, the back rooms pantry and kitchen. Decorated with bric a brac from over the years. Very noisy staff and patrons. They all know each other well.
"You can sit here," said a young man, pointing, before we had a chance to look around.
"Is the food any good?" I asked an owner/hostess/waitress. "You eat, you'll see," she replied, abruptly setting down menus. She came back with bruschetta topped with tomatoes and garlic. "What you want to drink?
Nice list. A Super Tuscan for $7 a glass. I'll have that!
Big glass... this is going well.
It was very, very good pasta. We chatted with the couple at the next table who filled us in on how much they like the little town of Morgan Hill, no crime, good climate... how the economy is going to hell in a handbasket now that the Democrats are getting their way. Two young men gave up on rib eye steaks that must have been three pounds each. The owner/chef smiled and collected twenty dollar bills from both of them. And the tab.
And that was just day one. We had the luxury of a day two before we returned to the friendly skies.