Run for the Border

Perhaps you’ve noticed some hand-wringing about gas prices lately. The panic apparently has not taken hold in southern California. Every third vehicle on I-8 east of San Diego last week was a pickup with a pair of dirtbikes in the back; every pocket of private property within Anza-Borrego Desert State Park was filled with giant RVs; and I-10 had thousands of pickups towing custom fifth-wheel trailers with ramps for ATVs or dirtbikes. I should confess I drove 1000 miles to chase lizards and add a few birds to my life list. I did conserve fuel by bringing a camp stove with a broken fuel pump - please nominate me for Sierra Club Man of the Year! I made better time on I-5 than a pair of Lamborghini Diablos that passed me in LA only to be held up by their frequent stops for gas - ha!
The media hype doesn’t stop at the gas pump: there’s an immigration controversy on, and since W’s coming out to SoCal to talk about it, the Border Patrol had dozens of half-assed checkpoints set up - a bunch of klieg lights, a paddy wagon, and a couple of bored Patrol agents lounging around drinking stale coffee in their Chevy Tahoe, not even looking at cars going by. We’re talking about $82 an hour in salary and $49 a day for equipment to have two guys loaf around eastern San Diego County. But massaging Kevin Tebedo’s ego - pricelss. I did not see any of the Minutemen clowns, so I guess Denny’s musta had a special on Skillet Breakfasts or something. Speaking of the Minutemen, why did a bunch of racist mustache farmers have to name themselves after my favorite band - couldn’t they have picked a mediocre band, like Social Distortion?

Other moments of subcultural snobbery from my San Diego trip: a hand-painted sign in Kern County offering "Internets," for sale; a racing boat tastefully emblazoned with the name "Trim Troller"; and a breakfast recommendation from a hotel clerk who started out sounding straight and progressed to full-blown mincing as he enthused about trying corned beef hash all over the country. If you’re the morning clerk from the Days Inn in San Clemente, you were right about the home fries at the Sunrise Cafe.

Posted by: Selvig in Travel | Permalink