It Never Rains In Southern California

On the range in New Mexico, I was directed to a remote area about five miles from the entrance gate to unload. All I had was one lonely crate to be taken off the truck. With the mission in the desert complete, it was back to El Paso for a layover to await the next assignment. The weather, at least was co-operating and pleasant sixty degree sunshine dominated the afternoon.


Just when things were looking like I might be able to catch a late afternoon snooze in the breezy Texas sunshine, The Price is Right theme sounded on my phone, telling me the company was calling with a load opportunity. When I answered, it wasn’t the usual automated female voice announcing my prospects, but Nicole, live and in person asking if I had a generator on the truck and if so, what year was it. I replied that I had no “Alternate Power Unit” or APU as they’re called in trucking circles. Why do you ask, I quizzed her. Nicole continued that there was a new law in effect in California banning older model APU’s. I followed that comment with “do you have an opportunity going to California?” She said, well yes, I have one going out from Tucson, Arizona to Sacramento tonight. I pressed her further and inquired about the terms. She responded with favorable numbers and I was quick to commit. Cal-li-forn- I-A here I come! I envisioned continued favorable weather, a plethora of gourmet coffees and a bunch of valley type people ending every sentence with “it’s like, ya know, ya know?”

About the only thing I got right was the coffee selection. I didn’t see any Valley Girls and there wasn’t much sunshine. This has been a rough winter for the Southwest too. Storm after storm has been pounding in off the Pacific with record amounts of precipitation. Mudslides and treacherous freeway driving dominated travel to and around the Golden State. The rain started in earnest around the New Mexico-Arizona border and the winds picked up dramatically, buffeting the truck with force on I-10. I had planned on running through the truck wash before this trip to wash some of the winter off the Fat Cat. The white wheels were black with road soot and salt. When I finally got out at a fuel stop in Tucson, I marveled at how the strong winds and heavy rain had sand blasted them pure white again. Amazing. I have never seen so much rain in this part of the country, but then again, I’ve never seen so much wacky weather in one season. It only figures that this is my first year in trucking.

By the time I made California, the rain had subsided enough to make travel a little less hectic. This run would take me up through the high desert of California and into the central valleys of this beautiful, but much maligned state. I like both of these regions very much. This was my second run on the desert and second up the San Joaquin Valley. The high desert has a certain kind of appeal to me with miles of straight highway, dotted with small roadside cafes and gas stations surrounded by distant mountain ranges. Trailer homes and old boarded up businesses pepper the journey to Bakersfield. And then there’s Boron, California. Two thousand people live here. Lots of towns across America are proud of something. Notwithstanding, Boron’s claim to fame is being the Boron Capital of The World, the home of the largest borax mine in the world. Yes, that’s the stuff they make the cleaning powder Borax with. This city of interest is on the western edge of the Mojave Desert. In the area, you can view both the highest and lowest points in the lower 48 United States. We’re talking about Mount Whitney and Death Valley. If it’s a desert scattered with bleach white bones or a snow capped mountain you like, this would be a great place for you. Also, of interest, if you’re so inclined, is the 20 Mule Team Museum.



The scenery along CA 58 produced signs for Edwards Air Force base and far off mountains that I would soon be travelling through. The air was mild and the skies toggled from overcast to a faint sunshine filtered by a dominant cloud cover. With a cup of Sumatra coffee acquired at a Pilot Fuel Stop at the intersection of CA 395 and 58, I was content to ease on down the road with the Fox News Channel as my company on XM satellite.

Highway 58 took me to the towns of Monolith and Tehachapi; the terrain quickly became mountainous and quite scenic. The winding road led to Bakersfield and the southern end of the renowned San Joaquin Valley. San Joaquin is one of the most fertile growing areas in the world. In places, you can see the rich, black soil plowed and ready for planting. Good portions of the produce we consume, especially in winter, come from this crown jewel of American agriculture. The climate is conducive to year round vegetable and fruit production. I saw miles of orange, grapefruit and lemon groves that made me want to pull over and gather some that had fallen on the ground. I might have done this had there not been an imposing barbed wire fence to dissuade me and others with the same notion. But, hey, they don’t use the ones on the ground, do they?

Next up, it was the towns of Selma and Fresno, where undisputedly, you could literally find yourself in a sea of raisins. They call this area “The Raisin Capital of The World”. Lore tells of the raisin being invented here, but how do claim fame to something that shrivels up and dries out? The Sun Maid lives prominently here. We'll proudly take two scoops in our raisin bran.

The precipitation persisted and the old Albert Hammond song that was popular in 1972, “It Never Rains in Southern California” played in my head. “It never rains in Southern California, but girl, don’t they warn ya, it pours, man it pours”, the line goes. Modesto popped up and so did the vast expanses of grape vines. Would a good deal on a jug of Gallo wine be at hand? Unfortunately, in this situation, a cheap bottle of wine would not be in the cards for me. Not on duty anyway. If the authorities find any kind of evidence of alcohol in my truck, I’m toast. Drinking or transporting, it doesn’t matter.

Sacramento appeared within sight and the jumping off point for my tour of The San Joaquin Valley. North of town, there is still another full third of this massive and wonderous valley left to ponder. I feel that we are so blessed with natural resources here in this country where the Joaquin plays a vital role in the food basket of America. As I pulled into the 49er Truck stop, dusk enveloped the landscape. The next day I would unload and get ready for another day in Northern California. The strategic location that the capital of California occupies on the Interstate 80 corridor has always intrigued me with sights and places that can be visited easily. You can find Yosemite, Lake Tahoe, Reno, Carson City, Virginia City and some excellent ski resorts to the north. Go the other way and you’re in the San Francisco Bay area, one of the most beautiful and diverse cities in America. Tony Bennett wasn't kidding when he sang "I Left My Heart in San Francisco". "Where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars..." This is pretty heady stuff. Oh, and let us not forget the world famous Napa Valley. That place speaks for itself. Talk about wineries. Some of the best wine in the world comes out of there. Also, you’ll find some of the most scenic countryside known to man. They even have a radio station named KVYN here...K-Vine. At certain times of the year, you can bounce back and forth from winter to summer by cruising up and down 80. I especially like Santa Cruz Beach with its barking Sea Lions begging to be fed. They sell fish on the pier for that purpose. “Feel Free to Feed the Sea Lions”, that's what the sign says. That's California. To live here has got to be a weekend trip paradise. This is a great part of the country. I’m happy to be here.