I’ve been under the weather for a few days, so I have a lot of catching up to do on my blog. Heat doesn’t agree with me, and by heat I mean any ambient temperature over about 75 degrees. Just can’t do it. We’ve been so hot in so many places (including Seattle) in the past year, I’m thinking we may have to move to Canada. I looked up the symptoms of heat-related illness, and I have been feeling most of them: fatigue, nausea, headaches, excessive thirst, muscle aches and cramps, weakness, confusion or anxiety, drenching sweats often accompanied by cold, clammy skin, slowed or weakened heartbeat, dizziness, agitation. On the other hand, it could have been a bug.

Anyway, back to events. Coincident with our high school reunion was the annual car show on Main Street. Cheryl was staying with us in the RV, so Saturday morning she and I drove the mile or so from the beach to El Segundo and parked near the high school, across from the library (where I used to spend many, many happy hours). Ours is, in my opinion, the most beautiful high school ever:

We found Cathie, Jeannie, Vonnie, and Dan eating breakfast at the Main Street Café.

So odd to be eating at a restaurant in downtown El Segundo, a restaurant with reviews on Yelp and TripAdvisor, no less! When we were growing up, there were almost no restaurants in town because who needed them? Everyone’s mom cooked dinner every night, so who would be eating dinner in a restaurant, let alone breakfast? Inconceivable.

We commenced meandering through the car show, where all up and down Main Street, from Mariposa to past Grand Ave, were parked pre-1975 custom classic street rods, antique sports cars, race cars and special interest cars.

This was the 17 Annual Main Street Car Show, sponsored by the El Segundo Police Officers Association. (Side note: Cathie, who lives in ES, mentioned that a police officer once told her that the most common crime in ES is passing bad checks.)

I know little about cars and care less, and the sun was beating down, but the people-watching was good, and we ran into a few old friends.

I was impressed with the care that some people bestow on their old cars. Southern California in particular has given rise to a car culture that I suspect is unmatched anywhere. To me, a car is a thing that gets you from here to there, and if it can do so with good gas mileage, some degree of comfort, and the ability to carry 4×8 sheets of plywood on its roof, so much the better. But it seems I’m in the minority.

The car culture in SoCal pervades casual conversation. While doing laundry back in China Lake, I chatted briefly with a guy from Carlsbad. When he learned where we were headed, immediately he began giving me advice on which highways and freeways to take and to avoid, and at what times of the day. I’ve heard this sort of thing again and again: Whatever you do, don’t take the (freeway no.) between (location) and (location) between (time) and (time) – my brother got stuck there for 4 hours last week; or, Be sure to take the (freeway no.) to get to (location) but then switch to the (freeway no.) before you get to (location). Route management consulting seems to be a pervasive and constant preoccupation here, at least a hobby, maybe even an art form.