The day we headed south on I-5 (or “the five” as they call it here in Los Angeles), the air conditioning in our P. T. Cruiser went out just past Salem. It wasn’t hot yet, but we knew that over the next 900+ miles it would be. Very.
When we reached Red Bluff that night, it was in the high 80s. Not exactly car-comfortable, but the cool air of the Super 8’s air conditioning unit restored our spirits. Somewhat. Super 8s aren’t what they used to be. Or is it that we aren’t what we were in the days that the cheaper-the-better was just fine? Of course, that was when the cost of a night’s stay was “as advertised” – eight bucks. Now it’s six or seven times that and my aging body calls out for a few more amenities than it used to. But the air conditioning worked so we weren’t complaining.
We called the nearest Chrysler dealer which was in Corning, just twenty minutes farther along. They were booked up for the next day but if we could get there around 8:00, they’d see if they could work us in.
They got to us a few minutes after ten. The $130 diagnostic provided an analysis of the first part of the problem: two hoses rubbing against one another had worn through and we had lost all our Freon. Parts and labor would be another $513 and then we “would see” if there were other problems. The parts could be ordered and would be there within twenty-four hours. Or… we could proceed to Redlands and our next day’s ten a.m. appointment with the University archivist. We soldiered on.
The thermostat above our windshield clicked upward almost as fast as the miles rolled by. It was in the high 80s by the time we passed Sacramento and in the mid-90s not long after that. By then, we had the windows down, but it’s just two narrow lanes heading south and those 18-wheelers were bumper-to-bumper at 70 mph next to us. The noise, the dust, and the diesel fumes were almost more than we could bear.
By the time the outside temperature reached 100, it must have been 120 in the car. I sacrificed the air movement to hang a shirt in the window and roll it up against the sun which was beating in through the windshield and passenger-side window. I knew we were in hell.
I couldn’t help but remember the trips from the Bay Area to Oysterville when I was little. No air conditioning then, either. It was before ‘the five’ so, if a “heat wave” was predicted, we usually took the coast highway. Otherwise it was the old highway 99 — more-or-less the northern portion of the route we traveled now.
I remember that we often had flat tires, that sometimes our radiator boiled over crossing the Siskiyous, and that there were always delays for construction projects. I think our Plymouth did well to average 40 mph and the trip took three days. On the plus side, though, trucks were fewer and way-smaller than now and, if we did have trouble om the road, there was always a Good Samaritan who stopped to help.
Today we head back toward the cool, green Northwest, but not on ‘the five.’ We’ll be hoping for some of that moist, marine air as we travel the slower, more scenic route along the coast, happily leaving the road from hell to those with more cool than we can muster just now.
Ugh. I made the beach-LA run many times in the late 70’s, early 80’s. Old VW’s, no
AC, cruise, and with 20-30$ for gas, slept in car. . Can’t say it was fun.
Oh, I remember the trip south from the Bay Area to LA on 99. It was so bad that we’d drive at night, with my sister and I in our jammies in the back on a bed my dad made that extended across the back seat (seatbelts? we don’t need no stinkin’ seat belts!) My first two cars didn’t have AC, either. What a nightmare through the Central Valley, heading north or south on I-5, and that was the late 70s before the traffic got so darn nasty. Many cool wishes to you and Nyel, Sydney, and one tip is to put a plastic pan with a block of ice in the footwell on the passenger side. Of course, that won’t help whomever is driving….
Oh Sydney, what a description. Sounds like a Hunter Thompson without the drugs.
I have no idea how people survived before airconditioning. My Aunt Mary, who lived in the MO Ozarks, commented one summer when I was visiting, that growing up they took it for granted that they were going to be uncomfortable during the summer and made due with high ceilings, electric fans, and driving with the windows down in the car. As I listened to her I thanked God that my grandparents had brought our family to Washington before my father was grown! Now Dave is living in a house in AZ with little-to-no AC. He has strategies for cooling the house in the evening and hopes that he continues to work a day shift where it is airconditioned and is not trying to sleep during the heat of day for a swing or graveyard shift. Well, let him be uncomfortable so he remembers where he REALLY belongs!
I remember those pre-A/C days all too well but, fortunately, we divided our time between the S.F. Bay Area and Oysterville where the climate was cool enough that it wasn’t needed. Occasionally, we visited friends in Visalia in California’s Central Valley and I can remember eating dinner after dinner of fruit salad. It was just too hot for anything else!