The Preserve I was searching for didn't work out. Getting there was once again through small, winding roads full of backed up traffic due to construction. When the phone ap said, "You've arrived," there was no where to turn and it did not look like we arrived where we wanted to be. The best thing was seeing three wild turkeys cross the road. I stopped traffic to photograph with my cell phone and no one got upset.
I asked Google Maps to guide me to a rest area and I was taken to a large parking lot at a Target store where RVs could park. Sometimes listening to directions without knowing at all where we are or where we're landing is unnerving especially when the voice says 'you've arrived' only to renege and keep giving directions. That's happened more than a handful of times already. There will be last minute right or left or u-turn instructions that have me looping around before landing me where I want to go. You don't give last minute directions to a motor home driver!
One time in Seattle, the Google Maps wound us all over a hillside overlooking the water and told me "we'd arrived" when we were at a park bench high on a hill. What we wanted was the ferry boat to Bainbridge Island where we were headed for my mother's hand surgery for skin cancer.
The views from Target were outstanding with walking paths along the water. We stayed until dark.
After 7 days and 7 nights of driving and moving from spot to spot each day, we spent the entire next day and night at that location. It was a windy morning (the news had wind warnings for high profile vehicles like ours) with the threat of rain, but by early afternoon, the skies had cleared. The feel of cool wind blowing through our open windows felt good.
In the span of sixty years California's population more than doubled from 15.87 million 39.78 million.
I remember meeting Uncle Stanton, (dad to the cousin pictured here) when I was a very young girl. He told a story that stuck with me about losing his son, Robert. His son promised his dad as he left to fight in WWII that he'd be home. My mother and I don't recall how he died, but it was some sort of military training accident in the states. On the night his body was shipped home, my uncle heard/saw his son at his bedroom window telling him he was home.
My mom came out of the salon telling me all about the young woman -- twenty something -- who cut her hair. Her background was German and her grandfather fought for the Germans in WWI, and her father, who came to America when he was two, grew up to fight for the U.S. in WWII. Much of her family back in Germany died in a concentration camp. Mom ran out of time finding out more details. She would loved to have talked with her longer. The young women said she didn't understand what was going on in our country under Trump and that she was raised to treat people the way you wanted to be treated. She was disgusted with Trump and his supporters. Biden hadn't officially won yet, but the counting was under way. They both discussed their hopes that Trump would be voted out of office.