My patience for rental car experiences, specifically California rental car experiences, is wearing thin. Last year in Los Angeles was a nightmare. This year in San Francisco was less nightmare, more nuisance. I really don’t understand the riff raff. Have the reservation, accept or decline insurance, fill the tank up with gas when you are done. But for whatever reason, it’s more difficult than Calculus 3.
As such, the trip doesn’t officially start anymore until we are in possession of the car. And luckily, after all the nonsense, we keep getting a pretty sweet ride.
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The decision to choose The Bay Area for the 3rd Annual Opening College Football Weekend Father/Son Extravaganza was pretty much a slam dunk. The Giants were home, the A’s were home, the Earthquakes (MLS) were home, and Stanford was hosting TCU for the ESPN Friday night football game. As a schedule of games over four days in a one hour radius, it couldn’t have been laid out more perfectly. Then the extra details started trickling in, and my pulse really got racing.
A lot of improbable things happen in my life, but what I am about to tell you ranks right up there. Someone told me since I was in the area, I should go to Pebble Beach, the famous golf resort on The Monterey Peninsula that is second to none. I said ok (you don’t have to twist my arm) and decided to make a tee time on Saturday afternoon on the nine hole short course for me and my son. Done. Wow, what a day that is going to be. Then, one day I was sitting in my office at Shell Landing talking to the best golfer at our club, who happens to be a young lady currently at Mississippi State University, and she is a superstar. I wished her luck on the upcoming season and asked her when and where their first tournament was going to be held. Obviously, the answer was Pebble Beach on the day we were going to be there. (I can’t make this stuff up.) I let out a gasp and a huge smile and told her I’d see her there. She thought I was joking at first, but then realized I wasn’t playing. Sure enough, Banks and I would see her there.
Not to be outdone, my parents rang me, and we discussed at length about the couple of years they spent living in San Francisco before moving to small town North Carolina to start a family and new career. As blunt as I could be, I asked for their previous address, and without a breath my mother blurted it out. 23 Platt Court. After looking on Google Maps, I was blown away. In my mind I had always thought they lived in some ho hum suburb of San Francisco. Rest assured, this was no ho hum suburb.
Okay, we had a lot to see and do. I had a sneaking suspicion that the games might play second fiddle to the new details that had emerged. Except for visiting The Oakland Coliseum, of course. With all of its gritty history, I couldn’t wait.
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Stanford versus TCU was a snooze fest as anticipated, but Friday night in Palo Alto was a super cool vibe. The two teams/states argued about whether Whataburger or In N Out Burger was better, and I listened to some rich kid talk about the next two months he was going to spend in France.
Pebble Beach was spectacular. I repeat, Pebble Beach was spectacular. Young or old, male or female, golfer or non golfer, you would enjoy the resort. It was that good. We walked around the big course, watched the young lady from Shell Landing play, and then played the short course ourselves. Afterwards, we ate lunch overlooking the famous 18th green, and I had some Korean brisket that literally burnt my tongue off. After spending the better part of the day there, we departed down 17 Mile Drive, quite possibly the most insanely gorgeous road on Planet Earth.
We left the Monterey Peninsula and headed straight to Silicon Valley, the site for that night’s San Jose Earthquakes vs. Minnesota United FC game. The first half was awesome. The second half was a little less awesome. Banks got to see his first lowrider cars do their thing. With my son asleep in the back of the car, I grabbed In N Out Burger (double double spread and pickle only) for the second time, scarfed it down to celebrate an insanely cool day, then crashed.
For our first foray into downtown San Francisco, we took in a Sunday matinee at Oracle Park. (I usually like to stay in unique hotels in downtown areas, but I’m not going to pay $100 per night to park. That’s ludicrous.) As we got closer to the stadium for Giants versus Marlins, I thought to myself, it is going to cost $100 to park. We found a place right underneath The Bay Bridge that was a mere $41, and as soon as we got out of the car we revelled in the views. The ballpark was here. The Bay Bridge was there. Oakland was literally just right there. The geography was fascinating. The view during the game was almost distracting. I mean, do you want to watch mediocre baseball or the boats in the bay on a sunny Sunday afternoon? When we left, I drove through the streets of downtown, and we were passed by a driverless car. Son, we aren’t in Mississippi anymore.
The following day, we had to go see where my parents used to live, which meant driving over the Golden Gate Bridge into this beautiful little community. The apartment complex still existed similar to what I imagined my parents experienced, but I bet it cost at least ten times the monthly rent. For a brief moment, I imagined myself growing up here instead of small town North Carolina, but that thought was fleeting. The two worlds were so far apart, not even my vivid imagination could paint that picture.
Later that afternoon, we popped over to the Oakland Coliseum, an arena with oodles of history and nostalgia that is closing for good in about fifteen days. The Raiders have already left, and the A’s are half a month from following suit. As a child, I found Mark McGwire and Jose Canseco fascinating, but it was really those green and gold colors that grabbed my attention. With only ten or eleven thousand people in attendance, we enjoyed the leisurely afternoon, but in true shut it down fashion, the A’s catcher hit a home run with the game tied in the ninth inning to put a cap on the game, the day, our trip, and the Oakland Coliseum.
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Since we saved almost $500 in parking costs by not staying downtown, we had a little extra cash to visit three local card shops. They were cool, and each of us picked up a few things that interested us.
The highlight was a card that I pulled from a random box that I bought. I paid for the box, and then we went outside into the car and opened it up, as is now our custom. I spotted some unique shiny colors in the second pack, and sure enough it was a Patrick Mahomes prizm, and only 25 of them were made in the world. I was hyped, Banks was hyped, and we immediately decided that we needed to go back inside to get a hard plastic case to protect this $100 card during travel. Not thinking that the 49ers hate the Chiefs, we bounced back inside. The shop clerk assumed that we had gotten a good card, so he became excited with us.
… until he saw who it was. Oh. Here’s the case. Nice card. But we don’t care for him around here.
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Have a great week.-Benj
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