Meguiar’s Class…AKA “We Drove 260 Miles to Get My Husband’s Car Waxed.”

An article that I posted on an automotive forum, recapping a detailing class that I attended yesterday.

**Note. I'm not trying to sell you guys on anything. Really. I thought I'd share this experience, because it was just so neat. Also, someone posted a question about armor-all in the "Interior" section of this forum, and I thought this would be an opportunity to share this experience with you all.**

My Hubby is a nut about his car. He drives a 1991 Nissan 300 ZX Twin Turbo. He is a Z aficionado and LOVES his car. Since moving out here to Cali, he has managed to track down a Z car club that is a really great group of people. Let me specify that these are enthusiasts that LOVE to drive their cars…they don't garage them and only bring them out for shows and whatnot. We get out often and meet to hang out and drive our cars.

In fact, we're driving along the coast next weekend and will be spending a weekend driving to Death Valley as a group in October.

So one of our "sister" clubs from Northern Cali put together a car detailing class at Meguiar's in Irvine, CA. All Z club members were invited to attend, and we signed up.

Actually, it went more like this…

Hubby: "Remember hearing about that Meguiar's class everyone was talking about? The Z Club has one put together for September 8. I'm going. You can come if you want."

Me: "A car waxing class?? I guess I could go along for the drive and hang out with the other wives."

Well, I was pleasantly surprised.

Just so you guys know, I am not one for washing/waxing/detailing my car. When we completed the survey at the end of the class, and was asked what car care products I most commonly use, I put down "Windex." Actually, when it comes to cleaning my car, I visit the local "Red Carpet Car Wash" (former Fresno employer of K-Fed himself) and let them do all the work for me.

So we drove 260 miles, braved the LA traffic, and spent the night in Irvine, Ca. Then arose at 6am the following morning to be out of the hotel and at Meguiar's by 8am.

They have a pretty impressive set-up. We worked in a roomy two car garage bay that was fully stocked with all kinds of detailing equipment. They have a classroom just off the garage where we sat for a four-hour seminar on the history of the company (they actually started out as a furniture care company. Huh.) and learned about the evolution of their product lines. Then we moved out to the garage and saw the magic happen.

What is really neat is that they have one of everything there…stuff that is available in the stores and stuff that you have to find a specialized store to buy. But it's all right there for you to pick up and read the label.

It wasn't really a sales pitch, either. The guy that taught us the class is pretty much a professional detailer in his alternate, non-corporate life. (He's detailing the Bat Mobile later this week!) He flat out told us at the beginning of the class that he was going to tell us about a lot of stuff, and it was going to be overwhelming, but it all came down to how you want to detail the outside of your car and make it shine. If you want to do it by hand, then you only really need three products. By machine, then two.

So we learned about clay bars, quick detailing spray, scratch/swirl removers, polishes and waxes. Microfiber cloths, terrycloth towels and foam pads. Detailing machines and the different foam pads that go on them, and which one will burn through your paint and which one is fool-proof.

Now remember…I wasn't too enthused about going in the first place. But the class was very interesting and the instructor was very engaging and entertaining. I actually learned a lot, and enjoyed seeing the detailing happen.

And everyone that wanted to try something got the opportunity.

My Husband's car was the lucky candidate for the hands-on portion of the class. The instructor showed us how to look for small scratches in the clear coat that were there as a result of life in general (his car is a daily driver, after all), and how to spot those annoying "swirl" marks that appear as a result of improper detailing.

He then showed us how to remove those imperfections and make the clear coat "clear" again. Removing the haze from the clear coat is what makes the paint brighten up and "pop" again.

Everyone pitched in with some "quick detail" spray to remove the grit and grime of the drive down there. (Hubby had visited K-Fed's former employer the day before, but then we had the drive ahead of us and of all the stupid luck, there wasn't a car wash between the hotel and Meguiar's to be found!) Then everyone clay barred the car to remove all the "environmental pathogens" from the top of the clear coat. We could already see and feel the difference on the paint.

The instructor taped off the hood in sections, so that we could see definitive lines when comparing the paint in "before and after" shots. He used a Xeon light to show us the swirls and minor scratches.

He hand-detailed a section himself, and after the first pass with the first step (scratch-x) we could already see that the clear coat was clearer, there was a reduction in swirls, and the paint just looked better. He did three passes with the scratch remover, then moved on to the polish, then on to a wax. While we waited for the wax to dry, he moved over to another section and started working with the machine.

This was where anyone that wanted an opportunity to try got to pitch in. He showed us how to apply a polisher from their professional line, and then how to apply the wax. Anyone that wanted to use the machine could apply a coat of the polisher. He put the wax on himself.

After the wax was completely dry, he wiped it off. Before Hubby pulled the car out of the garage and into the sun, we could already see the difference.

Pulling the car outside, and seeing the sun glint off of the finish on the hood really drove the point home. Hubby's car is "pearl black", and you could really see the difference in the sections that had been polished and waxed, and the sections that had not. Swirl marks were non-existent. The clear coat had been "de-hazed" and the black paint really shone through. It looked deeper and richer, and the metallic flakes really shone.

Then we pulled the car back in the garage, and the instructor finished up the entire front of the car.

It is beautiful. Looks like a new car. Well, a new car with rock chips in the paint. Rock chips that really stand out because now there are no other scratches or swirls to camouflage them. J

Hubby has declared that we are using only Meguiar's products from now on.

(As a side note, last summer the two of us pulled my car into our garage and hit it with a few of the Meguiar's products that we had picked up from a store. We put in the entire day working mostly by hand, and the dull paint polished up beautifully! We'll be doing this again, as we'll be putting my car up for sale when we order my Patriot in a couple of months.)

So for someone that wasn't really interested in attending and learning all about waxes, compounds, polishes, chemicals and whatnot…I really enjoyed myself. The information, knowledge and technique that was passed on to us is really enough for you to start your very own detailing business. In fact, there was a young man there that was working on just that.

If anyone ever has the opportunity to attend one of these classes, I say go for it. I realize that this crowd may not have the special interest of keeping their Jeeps shiny and scratch-free, but some of you might. And some of you might have other cars that you like to baby.

Anyways…here is a Shutterfly link to our photos from the day:

http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AaMWjduzcs1HhU

Here is the address to Meguiar's website:

http://www.meguiars.com

And here is the address to the Meguiar's Online Forum:

http://meguiarsonline.com/Default.aspx

That's our class, the ZONC club, under the Car Detailing Classes link. And that's me, waay in the back, in the gray sweatshirt hoodie. (It was cold in there!)

Those of you that are using the Mopar products for cleaning your Jeeps…take another look at the label. Does it say Meguiar's anywhere on there? One of the things we learned is that Meguiar's has partnered with some companies that want specialized cleaners for their products. Chrysler is one of them, and that is where the Mopar cleaners come in. Meguiars makes cleaners for them, and puts their name on the label as well. There is a furniture company and a door company that have the same deal with them. Pretty neat.

Also…a couple of tips I thought I'd pass on. When detailing the outside of your car, use painter's tape to tape off the rubber/trim areas of your car that you don't want to get wax residue on. Really helps.

And I learned something about the care of leather/vinyl seats and applying product. Don't apply the product directly to the seats. You'll gunk up your seams that way. Instead, apply the product to your cloth, then wipe onto the seat.

And micro fiber and terrycloth are better to use over plain cotton, such as tees. Why? The fabric of micro fiber and terrycloth is textured better…thus giving anything that is microscopic and sitting on top of your paint somewhere to go. Tees and other "smooth" fabric will simply push these contaminants across your paint, leaving scratches in the clear coat.

Because Words Sometimes Fail Me

There is a sympathy card sitting on my counter at work. Everyone in my division is signing it because someone in our department recently lost a son in the war in Iraq.

Let me rephrase that. Less than three years after losing a son in the war in Iraq, a family in our community just lost asecond son in the war. A third son accompanied his brother's body from the scene of the crash all the way to the United States before returning to California ahead of his deceased brother.

The family is, understandably, devastated. The entire community mourns their loss.

My heart aches for them.

My dilemma is in what to write inside the sympathy card. I hate sympathy cards. I never know what to say in these kinds of situations.

How do you scrape words together to convey your sympathy without sounding prefabricated?

"Thinking of you."

"…in our thoughts and prayers…"

"With deepest sympathy."

I don't seem to have the ability to string a sentence or two together that sounds like I want it to sound. Everything I come up with seems to sound so hollow and empty to me.

How do I tell this family that I genuinely empathize with them? That I know the heartache of seeing a loved one go off to fight in a war - that I know the fear of never seeing someone that I love come back from that battleground? I know what it is like to go through the routine of my daily life, all the while thinking of a loved one that is fighting to keep me safe and comfortable at home. I know how it feels to be so proud of someone for the sacrifices that they're making - the life that they're living - all so that things can be better for all of us back here. But I can never, everbegin to imagine the pain of such a loss. I can't even begin to come close to saying that I know how it feels - because this family feels a pain that I can't even begin to attempt to relate to.

My heart goes out to them - it truly does. I hope that with time their wounds will heal. I can hope that as the days, months and years go by, they will be able to recover from this tragedy that has ripped holes in their family and in their hearts. I don't know if time will make their hearts heal altogether, but hopefully they can find a way to cope.

I want to find just a few words to put in this card - to convey all of that and sound genuine. I've been tossing thoughts around in my head all week, hoping to find just the right combination of words that will feel right.

Hopefully they'll come to me.

And hopefully this family will be able to find peace in their sorrow.

I'm Southern, Alright?

Those of you that know me know that I am a Southern Girl.  And I love my Sweet Tea.  So much so that I celebrated my return to the South and the readily available heaven-on-ice that is my Sweet Tea, available practically everywhere.  Everywhere that counts, that is.

Unfortunately, that reunion was to be short lived when Hubby accepted a job offer that would bring us out West.  We came out on a house-hunting excursion and I clung to the pre-made Lipton bottles available from the convenience store's refrigerated cases.  I got strange looks from the cashier when I appeared at the register with half a dozen bottles.  I just looked at her and said, "I'm from the South."  That should explain it all.  But alas, the Lipton substitute with the blue label (sweetened, no lemon) left me with a bitter aftertaste.  This love affair would not last long.

I was beginning to mourn my precious Sweet Tea, when my mother-in-law came to the rescue with a Mr. Coffee tea brewer that came with not one, but two pitchers!

Now my sweeter-than-thou beverage is readily available from my own fridge...and I've spread the wealth by bringing the sweetness to work with me.

I always tell people, "I'm from the South.  I like my tea sweet, and sweetened right."  That means made with real sugar, and it has to be added while the tea is still hot from the brewing process.  If you fail in that crucial step, the sugar doesn't melt in the tea, and you're left with a granulated mess.  Thus, I can't order tea in restaurants and add sugar when it arrives.  That's just not right.

While perusing the internet today, I stumbled across this article on the South's love affair with Sweet Tea.  It pretty much hits the nail on the head - Southeners love their tea, and they love it sweet.  Anyone that lives in the South and doesn't love their Sweet Tea just ain't right.

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I Wish I Lived in a Land of Lipton

…What makes Southern sweet tea so special?

By Jeffrey Klineman

"It's rough. It's been rough on that food. It's different eating here than it is at the house. Ain't got no sweet tea, and ain't got no fried chicken."
—Boo Weekley, PGA golfer from Milton, Fla., interviewed by the BBC on Day 2 of the British Open, 7/20/2007

You can't blame Boo Weekley for not knowing—before last month, the man had never left North America. And there are some fairly major associations between Great Britain and tea. But poor Weekley had the same awful realization most of us have when we leave Dixie: When you order sweet tea, you probably aren't going to get it. And even if you're lucky enough to find something bearing its name, it's probably not quite the same.

Drinking sweet tea is one of the oldest and most exceptional Southern traditions. As Dolly Parton's character in Steel Magnolias puts it, it's the "house wine of the South"—a clear, orange-to-red tinted tea brewed from six or seven Lipton or Luzianne tea bags, poured hot onto a cup or more of sugar or a pool of simple syrup, and then diluted into a gallon pitcher in the fridge. It's served over a mound of ice in a huge glass—so cold that you can watch your napkin drown in a puddle of condensation.

By "sweet tea," we mean "sweet." As one food technologist told me, some of the sweetest glasses can hit 22 Brix of sugar. That means that 22 percent of the liquid consists of dissolved sugar solids, or, to put it in more meaningful terms: close to twice what you'd find in a can of Coke. Still, there's a balance to the flavor—the tea is brewed long and strong, so it gets an astringency that can only be countered by lots of the sweet stuff.

Southerners, of course, have a taste for sugar that is demonstrably stronger than what you find up North. We like our pecan pie and pralines sweet enough to make the dentist cringe. All of the major soda companies—the Coca-Cola Co., PepsiCo, Dr Pepper—started in the South. Bourbon, that sweetest of whiskies, is from Kentucky. A mint julep, that classic Southern cocktail, is basically a whiskey'd up sweet tea, with mint, ice, simple syrup, and booze.

One chef I spoke with—Scott Peacock, who spent eight years bunking and writing with the Grand Dame of Southern cooking, the late Edna Lewis—suggested that Dixie's taste for sweet may have evolved from the use of sugar as a preservative. Peacock's dad grew up in a small Alabama town where they didn't have much refined sugar. In towns like that, he said, they grew cane, milled it, and put it in jars. People anticipated the crystallization of the cane sugar with great excitement, eager to stir it into their tea.

Sugar worship might account for much of sweet tea's popularity, but I think its appeal lies in the ice. Southerners seem to have a particular fascination with ice. This may stem, most obviously, from the fact that the Southern climate is often steamier than a Rat Pack schvitz. In an early essay about Southern cuisine published by the American Philosophical Society called Hog Meat and Cornpone: Food Habits in the Ante-Bellum South, Sam Hilliard wrote that a container of cool—not even cold—water, pulled from a nearby spring, was a delicacy at the table. Tea was mostly a drink for the upper class, and early on, it was the rich who had access to the ice that came down on ships or in wagons, at least until icehouses were built in cities (Southern farmers had to wait for the arrival of the Model T). If ice was a luxury, then putting out a pitcher of ice-cold tea must have been quite a bit of hospitality. One historian, Joe Gray Taylor, wrote in Eating, Drinking, and Visiting in the South: An Informal History that the rural electrification—and, consequently, refrigeration—wrought by the Tennessee Valley Authority in the 1930s was "probably more appreciated for the ice cubes it provided … than for any of its other services."

Offering up a glass of sweet tea on a hot day in the South is as welcoming a gesture as passing the doobie at a Phish show. It's so ingrained in the Southern DNA—Marion Cabell Tyree included the recipe in a cookbook called Housekeeping in Old Virginia as early as 1879—that people now post videos online of their infants sampling the stuff. It's a frequent menu item for the condemned, as well as a centerpiece at church suppers. As an April Fools' Day prank in 2003, Georgia State Rep. John Noel introduced a bill that would have made it a misdemeanor for a restaurant owner not to include sweet tea on the menu. Most Southerners can easily tell the difference between fresh sweet tea and the stuff from concentrate—and unless their sugar jones is too strong that day, chances are they'll send the latter back.

It's a refreshing combination of sweet and cold, sure, but how does something that's simply tasty become the unofficial beverage for an entire region? Well, there's this: The South reveres its traditions, and sweet tea is one of them. Dixie has had some embarrassments in its time: There's that whole Civil War thing, the whole Judge Roy Moore thing, that whole Naples, Fla., Swamp Buggy Queen thing, to name a few. Getting your nose rubbed in your own traditions too many times makes you cling to those that aren't, well, illegal. And you revere them as much because they have proven resistant to change as you do for their particular qualities.

For me, personally—and I suspect I'm not alone—sweet tea is a primal link to my own Southern past. I grew up a Jewish kid in Atlanta, with a mom from Brooklyn, N.Y., and a dad from Cleveland. To assimilate with my classmates, I quickly learned to say y'all, talk about Herschel Walker, put honey on my biscuits, and enjoy sweet tea. While my parents made us drink an unsweetened mint tea blend at home, I strong-armed them into stopping by Po Folks on the way home from baseball practice. A middling Southern-style chain (we didn't know enough to eat at Mary Mac's), known for horrible phonetic misspellings, heavily larded chicken, and, most importantly, sweet tea served in Mason Jars, it was practically the only place I could get hooked up properly—at least, that is, until I began raiding the always-full homemade pitchers in my friends' refrigerators.

I may live in Massachusetts now, but I still consider myself Southern at heart. In the fall, I ask the bartender to let me watch the Bulldogs game. In the spring, I feel a potentially suicidal need to stop wearing a coat. And in the summer, I still look for sweet tea. Even on the rare occasion I can find someplace that has it on the menu, it's often slightly off. Maybe it isn't sweet enough. Maybe it's the lack of free refills. Whatever it is, it chills me.

Touch

The simple act of Touch has a powerful effect.

Every day, my dogs cuddle up to me, nudging me. All they want is for me to Touch them. A pat on the head in passing, a scratch behind the ears, rubbing their temples. The simple act of my Touching them gives them comfort and reassurance. They are happy and respond with relaxed grunts and thumping tails. They are validated in their "good dog" status once more.

I feel their life vibes penetrate into me when I Touch them. I am momentarily calmed - my dogs have served an immense purpose in those few seconds of contact. I feel their love and adoration whenever they curl at my feet, rest their heads in my lap or nudge me with their icy cold little noses. They love me, just as I love them, and they want to take a moment to share that love with me.

Even my independent and free thinking cats value Touch. They will curl up next to me on the couch, Kismet nesting his head against me, prodding me with a cold nudge of his nose. He craves my Touch, and if I try to pull my hand away he reaches out and pulls it back. Taboo will lay next to me on the couch, his paw extended out specifically for the Touch of my skin. He is known to perch himself on the floor…waiting to roll over for a belly rub if we should make eye contact. The contact of my hand on their soft fur is comforting and brings relaxation.

Skin on skin. The art and comfort behind the Touch.

When I walk by my Hubby, more often than not I reach out and make contact. I'll kiss the top of his head, run my hand along his bare shoulders. I always take an opportunity to Touch him in passing.  Playful pats, lingering brushes.  The Touch of lovers. I feel his warm skin make contact with mine, and in an instant love is communicated, without words.

I take every opportunity to press our skin together - kisses, holding hands, leaning into him while watching television, spooning at night, touching our feet together. The lifetime of long separations makes the act of Touch more valuable to me. There are long stretches of time when our skin cannot contact - I cannot feel the warmth of his body next to mine. It is during these long, lonely stretches that my skin aches for him - to be Touched by him.

The smallest Touch brings comfort and warmth. I seek it in my every day existence and find it here - among my loved ones. I am blessed to have this much love in my life, and to be able to feel the love without expressing it in words…through the simple act of reaching out and Touching one another.

He Came Home

After eight months and 14 days of waiting, worrying and wondering…my Hubby is finally home.

Separation seems to be constantly in our stars. In seven and a half years of marriage, how much of that time have we really been together? Well, right away, I can tick off just over two full years of separation…and then add in the fact that before we moved in together we only saw each other on weekends…plus almost a full year of total separation before we even got married…surely you can do the math there…

This was his second trip to the sandbox. He was gone from February of 2004 to February of 2005 (49 weeks total), and again from November of 2006 to July of 2007. That's right…he was home for almost exactly 20 months before going again.

I manage to keep things together pretty well when he's gone. Our very scattered life together has trained me well for that.

It didn't start off so easy - in 1999, when he broke the news to me that his employer was going to be sending him away to another state to work for an indefinite period of time, it broke my heart. We were at Disney World...The Happiest Place on Earth…and I would just spontaneously burst into tears. It totally baffled our waiter at breakfast one morning…poor guy. All he wanted to know was what I wanted for breakfast, and the next thing he knows I'm in a puddle of tears in the restaurant of the Wilderness Lodge.

Our next long-term separation was when Hubby joined the Army. He went away to basic training and then to school to learn his job. By the time I joined him in Alabama I was getting used to the separation, but it wasn't any easier. Added to that was the fact that I had uprooted from my friends and family and moved to this alien landscape.

A shorter, yet just as heart-wrenching, separation happened when he went overseas without me. I should have been with him, but thanks to the idiocy of a woman in Alabama, I was not. It took some finagling, and a well worded email to a person in the chain of command, but after a very short separation we were back together again.

And as luck would have it, from February of 2001 until February of 2004, our separations would be minimal. A month here, a month there. Mere drops in the bucket compared to what we had been through in the past.

And then the Orders came down the pipe. My Husband would be headed off to a war zone. I managed to keep it together for this news. We worked as a team to prepare for his departure. Some things got taken care of around the house, and in a whirlwind of activity the time came for him to leave. I handled the good-bye really well…until I was walking back to my car in the snowy and icy parking lot and the buses of soldiers drove by on their way to the airport. That's when it hit me…with a groan I realized that there was a very real chance that I may never see my Hubby alive again. As we all rushed to the side of the street to wave goodbye to these brave heroes, I'm sure that all the other spouses around me felt the same knot in their hearts. What if???

Overall, I handled that separation very well. I was sick for an entire week when I realized that Hubby was convoying from Kuwait to his duty station in Iraq. When the calls stopped coming, I knew what was happening…no one had to tell me. It wasn't until I got my next call from him, letting me know that he arrived safely, that I was OK again.

The months ticked by and I kept myself busy with work, travel and friends. And then he came home to me…safe and sound. Alive and well. I was so grateful.

Now we have survived another separation…very similar to the last one, yet somehow so different. He is home again, and I am again thankful to have him here with me…for however long it lasts.

These separations…especially the ones where he leaves to go off to a war zone and I can never be one hundred percent sure that he'll be coming back to me…they've changed me somehow. When I see footage or read articles about families saying goodbye to their loved ones, or greeting them after a long separation…or when I see footage and memorials of those that weren't lucky enough to make it back to their loved ones…or even when I hear a particularly poignant song on the radio…my heart wrenches and I have to pull myself together. I can feel my eyes start welling up and I have to fight back the emotions that want to burst forth.

I can very much relate to all of the people in those situations. I've bravely said goodbye and I love you to the man that I plan to spend the rest of my life with…holding myself together while he marches off to a foreign land and not knowing for sure that I'll see or hear him again. The thought tries to come forward…"What would I do without him…noreally without him…what if he doesn't come back?" But I fight that cloud…stubbornly telling myself that he'll be home again. But at the same time, I am more vulnerable because of it…I have to fight the creeping darkness until he returns and brings the light with him that will banish the dark thoughts again.

I have grown in strength because of these separations. Now he is home again and we can settle back into our familiar patterns. There is no cloud of impending separation looming over us for now. We can bask in the glow of being reunited, and as that glow fades with time we will find ourselves moving on with life and enjoying our time together.

We have to enjoy our time together…because we refuse to delude ourselves into thinking that the separation won't happen again. Oh, what a pleasant surprise it would be if it never happened again! But if it does, we will charge ahead fully prepared to meet the challenges…and I will again fight the dark clouds of negativity that insist on creeping into my mind.

Eight Months Gone

Today marks eight months since Hubby officially left home on his journey to the sandbox. What has happened and changed over the past month?

- Number of meals cooked this month: 0 
   Running total for deployment: 0
   (Note that I do not count frozen pizzas, chicken nuggets or baking a hamburger in the oven as cooking.)

- Special Note: While I DID make baked beans for a day out on the lake…they are not a full meal, therefore they do not rank in the meal-counter.

- Scrapalooza…seems to be at a rest. I didn't scrap any pages this month. I just didn't seem to have the motivation this time around…

- Mechanical Emergency Number Five: My computer crashed. It just up-and-decided not to start on me one day. After I emailed Hubby to let him know that my internet access would be very limited until he returns home to fix the computer, he rode in to the rescue with a new laptop. Totally unexpected! Now I just hope that he is able to get the old computer up and running long enough to pull all of my stuff off of it…

- What, oh what have I done to deserve the tormenting of the Automotive Gods? As I was driving on the freeway one day, a rock popped up out of nowhere and dinged my windshield. Now I have a little asterisk just of the left of my field of vision in the windshield. Dammit! AND THEN, I was walking Sadie Marie one day and happened to see a little "glint" from one of my tires. I had driven over a screw! Turns out that the Automotive Gods were just toying with my emotions that time…it just stuck itself in the tread and didn't actually penetrate the tire. I really don't want to dump any more money into this car…I just want to sell it and have my Jeep already!!

- I've finally given in and decided to follow through on a promise I made to myself at the beginning of the year, when I started my new job. With the addition of more money to the check, I told myself that I was going to splurge and get myself a fresh pedicure every pay period. Until this month, I hadn't followed through. I finally did, and am in love with the pedicure again! I'm definitely keeping up with this…now if I can only make myself immune to my hatred of the nail file…

- Reports from the Front...summer has brought back two of our college-bound employees. They're in town for the summer, bringing some much needed relief to the office. We've also got a "newbie" on board, so the staffing situation seems to be temporarily resolved…for the time being. The major oddities this month are the capture of a goose and two adorable baby gray foxes. All went to the local wildlife rescue, which was wonderful. And if you think that snakes can't come up your plumbing and through your toilet, guess what. They can! We had a 4-5' constrictor come up into a toilet in the city this month…I never thought those stories were real! But we went and picked up the proof!!

Nostalgia

I just received a batch of photos from some friends that took a gorgeous, scenic drive through the back roads of Nevada with the local Z car club.  Such gorgeous photos!  Genuinely made me wish that Mike and I had been able to go.

It got me in a bit of a nastalgic mood...so I thought I would post my e-mail summary of a similar trip that we were privileged to go on last October...

Mike and I decided to take advantage of the continuous delays of his impending departure to the giant sandbox this past weekend to sign up for a great trip through his Z Car Club. We had heard about the Z Run to Death Valley back in June, and had our name on the list to go from the start. Then we found out that he would be leaving, so we cancelled our plans. Fortunately, the constant delays of his departure allowed us to take part in the trip after all!

It was a bit of a whirlwind decision…Mike made the phone call to the trip's organizers on Wednesday, we boarded Fred in a local kennel and left on Thursday! We spent Thursday night in Manteca, CA and met up with the drivers on Friday morning to begin the trip. There were 11 Zs participating in the drive. We crossed the Sierra Mountains early in the day on Thursday using the Sonora Pass. This pass is north of the Tioga Pass that we explored a couple of weeks ago. The scenery was just as stunning, although not as rugged as what we found in the John Muir and Ansel Adams Wildernesses. We couldn't have asked for more beautiful weather – the sky was a gorgeous blue scattered with silky white clouds. We even got to see some snow on the way!

Lunch brought us to the town of Lee Vining, and an after-lunch stop at Mono Lake. Mike and I visited this lake briefly a few weeks ago, but did not drive on any of the roads around the lake at that time. We missed out! The Z run cut off of the main highway, and into the Mono Scenic Basin. We stopped to check out the Mono Craters, formed by volcanic activity, and got some great pictures of the lake and distant scenery. From this area, we began entering the more arid areas of the valley that runs between the Sierras and the White Mountains. The road was long and hilly – perfect driving conditions for this group!

We rolled into the town of Bishop for the evening, just in time to miss driving in the huge rain storm that we observed dumping snow on the surrounding mountains! The storm blew through overnight (lots of wind!!), and was still lingering in the early morning when we met in the parking lot to begin the next leg of the journey. In a strange twist of luck, one of our drivers had run over a screw and had a flat tire! I don't know what was funnier…the fact that 4 people were trying to help get the tire fixed, or the fact that they all brought their own gloves on the trip! So this delayed our departure by a couple of hours, which worked in our favor…

Once we were on our way, we took a small diversion off of the main road to check out the Bristlecone Pine Forest…something that isn't in our tour book and not on any of our maps…so Mike and I never knew about it! This forest is the home to the world's oldest trees – and they grow in the worst possible conditions! Nothing else can grow in the dolomite that these trees have rooted themselves in. Mike and I will definitely go back to check out the actual forest and trees in better weather. The previous night's storms had blown in some snow into this area, and we drove as far up into the park as we dared…once we started hitting slush on the road, we all turned around and drove down to the lowest scenic view…which was amazing! This view offered a panorama of the valley below – and awesome views of the neighboring mountains and the weather blowing through. Had we left a couple of hours earlier, we never would have been able to make it as far up the mountain as we did, and the weather wouldn't have been cleared up yet. So a big thank you to Dustin and Makayla (sp?) for sacrificing their tire. J

The trip continued on through an arid valley with very little in sight…just a couple of ranches. We meandered our way into Nevada and passed by an apparently well-known brothel. Of course, we had to stop and take advantage of this photo opportunity! On through Nevada, we entered Death Valley and drove to Scotty's Castle. Everyone took advantage of the opportunity to get out and walk around – some signing up for tours of the castle and others just wandering around the grounds. It was at this point that we were supposed to meet up with about 15 other Z cars from another Z club…but the main road leading through the valley was closed due to the previous night's weather! While we were not all looking forward to adding about 50 miles to our trip by having to drive back into Nevada and enter the park again at a different location to get to our night's lodgings, we really had nothing to worry about. Our "Buzzard Luck" struck again when Steve locked his key in his car and had to call AAA for a rescue. About two hours later, when we were finally deciding to resort to our own methods of unlocking the door to the Mach 5 (with a modified bucket handle, no less!), the AAA guy showed up to a round of applause. After just a few minutes, the car was open, and so was the road! Another unexpected delay worked in our favor, as we could now drive through the valley and check out some more sights.

We stopped at Ubehebe Crater, and thanks to our most fortunate "unluckiness", we had awesome lighting as the sun began its descent past the mountains for the evening. Just goes to show that what might appear as an unfortunate event can often work in your favor! We rounded out the night with a fabulous group dinner at the steak house and a dip in the mineral springs-fed pool.

Sunday saw a morning with no delays – we drove up to Dante's View and Zabriskie Point to check out some amazing panoramas of the valley. Mike and I were very satisfied with this visit to the park, as we saw some things that we didn't see on our last trip through the valley. After a final stop at the hotel for breakfast, we were on our way out of the valley and to our final stop – Ridgecrest for lunch. Mike and I had made this drive before – in rain and fog at night– so we took advantage of being able to enjoy the scenery this time.

After lunch, it was back towards the Sierras and the road home. We passed back through my favorite patch of Joshua Trees that we saw back in January. Upon reaching Lake Isabella nestled in the Sierras, we branched off from the rest of the group and headed home.

Mike and I had a wonderful trip, and hope you enjoy the pictures. There are a lot of them, and be warned that you'll see a lot of pics of cars…but after all, that's what this trip was all about!

Here are the pictures from Friday:

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Here are the pictures from Saturday:

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Here are the pictures from Sunday:

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