Monday, April 27, 2015

Pearblossom Highway – Was He The Zodiac Killer?

After watching a program on a cable channel about a notorious killer back in April of 2012, a frightening and long dormant memory was sparked within me.  My memory was from back in 1981 and I had possessed my California Driver License for about a year at that point.  My cousin, K.C., who was seven years my senior, was in town visiting when two friends from high school, Tim and Kim, and I decided we wanted to go skiing at Mt. Waterman in the San Gabriel Mountains in Los Angeles.  K.C. decided he want to go too, so one sunny, winter Saturday morning, we all piled into my mom’s yellow Volvo station wagon, and I started driving us to the ski area. 

My parents’ house was in Studio City, so I decided that instead of taking Interstate 10 east to Interstate 15 (the 210 freeway did not go farther than the 57 freeway at that time), I decided to take us around the back of the San Gabriel Mountains.  Mt. Waterman sits in the very northeastern corner of this range, just to the west of Interstate 15.  The route I chose required us to drive west on Highway 101, north on the 405, north on the 5, north on the 14, and finally, east on Highway 138, which is also called, Pearblossom Highway.  After negotiating all of these freeways, which was relatively easy on a Saturday morning, we turned east onto Pearblossom Highway and headed straight east for Mt. Waterman. 

This section of the 138, which begins way back west at Gorman’s Interstate 5 and Highway 138 interchange, and which ends at Interstate 15 north of the Cajon Pass, is a rolling highway.  It’s relatively straight, but it has these fun ups and downs which follow the topographical intersecting contour of where the Mojave Desert and the northern San Gabriel’s join.  Back then, it was a two lane road with no divider.  There were a lot of accidents back then with vehicles trying to pass with less than sufficient viewing corridor.  The evidence was in the signs that dotted the rolly up and down portions of the highway reading, “Do Not Pass On Hills.”  But I had driven the road on several occasions prior in my exploration of areas outside of Los Angeles. 

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Flying Over Fremont

It was with great pleasure and excitement that I flew over Fremont Street in Las Vegas.  I flew over it, not in an airplane, but via SlotZilla’s Zip Line. 

We were a group of nine friends visiting sin city last weekend and were walking around Vegas’ old downtown Fremont Street.  It’s really gentrified now.  I’ve been there with this same group of people several times in the last few years.  But each visit, it seems that they’ve improved the whole of Fremont Street and given a new life to an old part of the city.  There is now a huge permanent metal arched canopy that encloses the entirety of the walk from one end to the other.  There are also three large stages along the pedestrian enclosed avenue that have great music.  During our evening visits, we watched a band perform a bunch of great country hits, and we also watched another band do rock and roll hits that were impeccably played.  Imagine how hard it is for a band to cover, “Bohemian Rhapsody,” in a way that rivals the original recording.  This band did it. 

One afternoon, we were walking on one of the side streets that feeds into Fremont, peeking into Hogs and Heifers, which a dive bar that has hot girls dancing on the counters and a continual line up of Harley bikes parked outside.  As we were walking away from the bar, one of our clan, Stephen, said, “You all want to zip line now?”  I was the first to respond, “Shit yeah.  Let’s go!”   “What?” “You want to zip line?”  my voice asked in my head.  “You know it’s high off the ground, right Fred?”  But I just ignored the voices and kept leading the group to the ticket office.