Big Dog’s upstanding tenant of many years is leaving his house in Arcata. She’s loved the 120+ year Victorian and taken care of it very well. He had hoped to get an equally conscientious renter but the first response to his online ad called him a “fucking capitalist pig scum landlord” or something to that effect.
“That does it. I’m not renting it anymore!” he declared. “I’m going to make it my permanent residence and sell in two years.”
We’ll see. He’s owned it for more than 40 years, has strong emotional attachments and nearly every inch of the interior and much of the exterior has been lovingly renovated by hand. By us.
Usually, we make the trip north in our Tacoma pickup, but seeing how Sprockets gets such great mileage, we pack her up and head up 101 from our Central Coast ranch.
I’ve made this trip dozens of times and Big Dog has been up and down California a bazillion times, but everything looks different from the high vantage point of Sprockets. Cool.
San Francisco is bright and sunny as we cross the Golden Gate Bridge so we stop for a look. You can see the city skyline! Woo hoo!
And, instead of our usual cheap motel, we are boondocking in Corte Madera, in front of J and L’s waterfront home. The neighborhood is nice and quiet and Sprockets is as comfy as can be.