Cinco de Drivo

A great drivo and a little drinko.  A perfecto way to celebrate the May 5, 1862 Battle of Puebla!!!!  Ironically, it’s celebrated more in the United States than in Mexico.  Yes, in the United States it’s better known as Cinco de Mayo.  Yes, my PCA buddies and I went for a drivo.  Yes, we then met in Santa Monica at El Cholo for some food and drinko—all before noon.  But, hey, at least we drove first, and it was five o’clock somewhere.

It’s been several weeks since I had my 89 Carrera on the twisties.  And it’s been many weeks since I had it out on one of my favorite roads, Mulholland Highway.  My drought ended this morning when I met my PCA Los Angeles buddies for a spirited drive along Mulholland and then a beautiful cruise down Pacific Coast Highway before stopping at El Cholo for brunch, either liquid or solid or both.

I have been too busy to drive for fun lately.  Pam and I were away.  Then I had to go to Luftgekühlt—yeah, I know, poor, poor pitiful me—which was tons of fun to be at but the drive was on freeways, not twisties.  Then I had other stuff to do.  Then I began to work on a project that requires lots of commute time, which I do in my Cayman.  But not today.  Today, it was drive time.  Today, it was 89 time.  Today, it was Malibu time.  And I smiled all morning.

This was a pretty simple drive.  We met at Gelson’s in Woodland Hills on Mulholland Highway.  We drove on Mulholland.  We drove on PCH.  I left before the group, hoping to get to a decent place to stop and take some pictures of the rest as they raced by.  Unfortunately, my plan fell apart.  Before I found a suitable spot from which to shoot, the lead group, let by my buddy David, was on my rear bumper.  David was leading a group that I can hang with when I am in my Cayman.  When I am in my 89, I don’t even try.  After I found a spot to pull over and let them by, I thought I would have a few minutes to find another spot from which to shoot before the next group on the road caught me.  I was wrong.  The gap between the groups, which was supposed to be at least five minutes, was about 20 seconds.  I could hear them coming up behind me while I could still hear the the lead group screaming away from me.  At that point I knew pictures were not in the cards.  I just inserted myself into the middle of the next group and focused on driving, which was really nice.

I had the oldest car out there today.  It has the fewest driving aids.  And the fewest horses.  But it is lighter and nimbler than the newer models so I can still keep up on shorter radius turns, which are prevalent on Mulholland.  I was maintaining contact with the group, but tenuously.  Suddenly, I reeled them back in.  I figured they came up on a group of bicyclists.  I was shocked when we finished the penultimate turn running up the Snake and saw a Model T lumbering around the last turn.  Unbelievable.  Only in LA.

The group crossed Kanan Dume and headed out towards Decker Canyon then dropped down to PCH.  My tolerance for Decker is just a little more than my tolerance for Yerba Buena, which is also in Malibu and which I call Yerba No Bueno,  So I bailed on the group and headed down Kanan to PCH feeling relaxed, refreshed, happy and windblown, as my Targa top was off. The ride down PCH was great.  The sun felt good.  The wind felt good.  Most importantly, the ocean smelled good.

We all met up at El Cholo and had a great time eating, drinking, swapping wildest turn, I mean biggest fish, stories and celebrating the Battle of Puebla.