I packed a bag to travel to Indiana to visit an old friend. I was going to fly, but thought no, I am going to drive and take my time. I did just that. If I saw something interesting, I would stop and check it out.
After my visit was over, I got in my car and headed for the Interstate. I knew I had to go south or east, but I went west. I kept wanting to turn around, but at each exit I would tell myself to go one more exit. Soon, I saw the sign “Welcome To Iowa.” I decided to stop at this unknown motel and stay the night. It looked like such a nice little town. My room was beautiful and spotless. Next morning, the song “Ventura Highway” by America came on. It sounded so inviting, I thought let’s see if I have the desire to drive that far.
Long story short, I ended up in California. Actually, I was in San Francisco and drove the PCH to Los Angeles. I did have to stop at Pebble Beach. I took the 17 mile ride. It was really nice. I tried to get a tee time to play the pro course, but you couldn’t play solo at that time.
Now, here comes the “hard to believe he did that part.” I really had no desire to drive back to Florida, so I sold my car and flew home. When I told my best friend what I did, he said “You did what?” I told him I didn’t stutter. I had a couple more vehicles, so I didn’t have to run out and buy another car, truck or whatever.