But first, I should explain how one gets to California. You start in Utah with the blue station wagon. No one wears a seatbelt. The 10 year old is lounging in the back with a lifetime supply of books, puzzles, games and snacks. You drive straight to Las Vegas where the temperature is 110 degrees in the shade. There the car breaks down. The car is pushed or towed to the mechanic. Mom hauls out the cooler full of food (german cold cuts, homemade bread, mustard, watermelon) that nobody wants to eat because everyone but Mom wants to eat out. Plus for some reason we are not waiting in an air-conditioned building--maybe they don't allow food--we are sitting on the curb in the heat. Mom eats a sandwich. We eventually nibble on some watermelon. Now we are hot AND sticky. Eventually, the car is fixed. It's late now. Mom and Dad alternate driving so they can get through the desert at night. Ten year old sleeps until the car arrives at Grandma's house. Mom and Dad stressed and exhausted. Ten year old ready for Disneyland.
The redwoods really are magical. I got to visit once during one of those famous summer trips, and I've never forgotten them. One of my co-workers recently visited with her family and what was remarkable about her vacation was that she looked really rested when she came back. There's a lot to be said for a mellow vacation--a stroll on the beach, a trip to the Redwoods.
When we went took me, we naturally drove through the tree with the station wagon. I thought it was so cool and I still do.
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