the beach north of pillar point. nice tidepools at low tide
i told robin about an interesting incident when i was beyond school but still… well, i’ll tell the story and you can add your adverb or adjective after “still”.
i bought a 1952 mgtd in london in 1971 and shipped it to california. right hand drive. crash box. no synchromesh. tricky to shift. fold down windshield. i loved it. back in california, living temporarily at our family house in capitola, i connected with an old friend in sausalito. he told me that he had a nice pound of weed. i had met a fine fellow in capitola who made a sketchy living strolling on the beach in santa cruz mumbling “lids, acid.” he said he could sell anything i got. so off i went in my sporty car with british plates.
not my car. but just like it.
it was a beautiful ride up the coast, over the bridge, and into sausalito. met my friend. scored my weed and headed back. right by big tree lumber, 18 miles from santa cruz, i ran out of gas. fortunately for me there was a place to pull over safely.
the wide spot
i had taken about three steps walking south to find gas when a car whizzed by going north. it stopped quickly, spun around and parked right by me. fellow jumps out and asks if i need gas. i answer yes. he opens his trunk and takes out a gallon can of gas. as i thank him and tell him i’ll pour it right in he says “keep it. pass it on,” spins around and continues north.
i arrived safely and kept the empty can for a while. i failed to pass it on.
robin’s response was “let’s get a gas can to carry. you can pay it forward."