The time had come. My three months of consecutive away-rotations during my fourth year of medical school were at an end. My academic journey had taken me from Dayton, OH to Lexington, KY, Tucson, AZ, and then Salt Lake City, UT. After a final exam at the University of Utah, it was time to leave Salt Lake City. The timing of all of this had worked out perfectly such that my college roommate’s wedding in San Diego was scheduled for the weekend following my last day.
Rather than the flight or thirty hour drive that would’ve been required to attend this wedding had I still been in Ohio, I now only faced a twelve hour drive from Salt Lake City. And after a summer of driving all over the country, twelve hours seemed trivial. So, for the final time that summer, I once again packed three months worth of belongings into the back of my Chevy Cruze and hit the road early on a Thursday afternoon. I didn’t know it when I set out, but the beauty of this drive would rival that I saw on my drive from Tucson to Salt Lake City a month prior. (keep reading below)
(continued from above) My directions on Google Maps were pretty simple: drive 560 miles southwest. Some rolling hills and grass covered plains passed my window before being traded for a large rocky canyon. The road winded back and forth in the shadow of the steep canyon walls, and eventually they came to an abrupt end revealing the desert high rises of Las Vegas in the distance. America’s Playground came and went. There was no time (or money) to stop for any fun on this trip. As I passed the City of Sin I looked down at my gas meter. Pretty much empty. I explored the limits of my gas tank while waiting for a roadside sign pointing me to a gas station. Lucky for me, I was soon directed to the World’s Largest Chevron by a double length billboard. I pulled off the road and up to one of the one hundred gas pumps arranged under the largest gas station awning imaginable. There were all of four other cars there. The whole place had a superfluous nature about it. The convenience mart inside was more of a food court, processed-food mart, and Las Vegas themed gift shop rolled into one. It was tacky and I loved it. Refueled, I pulled back into the road.
A few hundred miles on down the road were large arrays of solar panels and eventually, the border crossing into California. I was more heavily scrutinized by the person at this highway kiosk than I had been by the actual border patrol officers at a checkpoint on a southern Arizona highway two months earlier. Satisfied that my car was sufficiently efficient and that I wasn’t smuggling any Regan posters into the state, I was allowed past the checkpoint and into California. I was now close to my planned stopping point of Barstow. The sun was setting in the western sky, gradually disappearing behind some mountains on my right, lighting up the sky with the most brilliant orange glow I think I’ll ever see. Eventually the only photons came from the lights of thousands of cars on the arrow straight highway ahead of me. And soon enough I was in Barstow checking into a Baymont hotel.
The only way to describe this hotel was, “standard”. It was apparently good enough for a tour bus toting an undisclosed celebrity to pull into and take up literally half of the entire park lot, so I figured it’d be okay for the night.
Above, I said I’d loaded my belongings into my Chevy Cruze for “the final time”. I lied. I was now a pro at grabbing luggage carts from hotel lobbies and toting my clothing, camera gear, and editing PC into my room in one trip. This was another opportunity to practice. Once in my room I quickly hit the hay, quite hungry as I had once again forgotten to eat dinner.
Waking up, I was up and out of the hotel so fast I barely remember re-loading my belongings. With the sun low in the eastern sky, I started out toward San Diego. This drive was uneventful save for the drivers in the vicinity of Los Angeles. The behaviors that that city forces it’s inhabitants to adopt in order to get anywhere are perhaps most appropriate on a NASCAR track. My Midwest driving style kept me safe and I continued onto the highway system of San Diego. Here, the road energy picked up again. I was doing well on time. Looking for a place to pull off and check my girlfriend’s inbound flight information, I eyed an exit that looked familiar from my time in San Diego a few years prior and ended up in Balboa Park surrounded by palm trees. Her flight was on time so I headed to the airport to pick her up and we headed back to check into our hotel for the weekend.
After an easy check in process, it was officially time to get out and start exploring the city. We wasted no time, immediately heading to Torrey Pines Beach. The $25 parking fee reminded us that we were in California, and we set out for a walk down the undeniably beautiful beach. Cliff faces stood on our left redirecting the ocean winds vertically into the sky, providing lift for paragliders slowly coasting back and forth down the beach. People surfed on waves to our right, and others stood on the beach with large fishing rods hoping for a catch. Our walk lasted for a couple of hours before we headed back to the car and onto La Jolla cove. Parking here required a good bit of luck which was thankfully on our side that day. Walking around the shops in the area of the cove served as a good reminder that we had no financial business being there. Panerai watches, a 458 Italia, expensive restaurants. But the Chevy Cruze stood proudly next to the Range Rovers and X5s.
The beautiful sights as we walked down Torrey Pines Beach
Making our way past the shops to the cove itself revealed what we had come for: a wooden walkway and platform overlooking the water. Ocean kayakers and snorkelers bobbed in the water near the cliff walls below us. Tree covered hills adorned with million dollar houses projected into the sky on our right. The only detractor was the smell of unkempt sea lions baking in the sun on bird stool covered rocks below us.
We walked back past the high class shops and restaurants and hopped in the Cruze. Google Maps routed us to little Italy and soon enough we had made it to the pre-wedding welcome dinner on the agenda for the evening. Here we caught up with old friends over some beer before heading back to the hotel for the night.
The next morning we decided uberring would be our best bet for efficiently getting around town. Struggling to find parking is quite literally my least favorite thing in the world. A silver Prius took us to Donut Bar. This place has my all time favorite donut, The Homer. I ate two of these Simpsons inspired giant yeast rings topped with pink icing and sprinkles while Katie ate a “big poppa tart”. Satisfied with our 1000 calorie carbohydrate breakfast, we decided to walk to Balboa Park about a mile away. We probably only burned about 100 calories on the walk there but whatever. We spent the next few hours touring around the park. Starting from the rose gardens we took a bridge over a road past a beautiful circular fountain, ending up at the botanical gardens in a large slat-roofed building. After getting our fill of greenery we made a quick trip to the Timken Museum of Art before stopping for a quick lunch at a small bar/café. We only had about an hour to sit and enjoy our food and drinks before we had to head off for the reason we were in San Diego in the first place: the wedding. I always feel like weddings aren’t really my stories to share, so that’s where I’ll end. The next day, we’d be up early to start a five day trip back to Ohio. And like all of my trips, I was determined to squeeze as much fun out of it as possible.
Views from the wedding