stay—”
“Oh, yes, Sir. I realize exactly what you’re about to say. Now, apparently Mr. Marks
can
meet with you for lunch on Friday, if that would suit? If so, I will call back the secretary to confirm.”
“Let me just think for a moment.”
I suppose Friday would work just as well. I can drive beyond Morro Bay now and explore a little. But then I’d need a different place to stay
. “Mary, lunch Friday will work fine. And you’d booked me a Morro Bay motel. Can you cancel that? I’ll find something on my own and let you know where I am, so you can leave me details about the lunch with Will.”
“Oh, yes, very good, Sir. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks, Mary.” Zack closed his phone and returned it to the console.
I suppose now that my meeting is postponed, my vacation starts right now … which means I can turn off the phone
. Hitting the power button, he focused his attention to the road and took in the scenery: sparkling water to his left, and to the right, jagged mountains where land’s end continued to wander ahead of him.
With a deep breath, he settled further into the leather seat. An autumn haze softened the profiles of offshore oil rigs as they marched along in the coastal water, and he found himself naming each of them, ticking off the construction dates and remembering some of the details of their histories.
But now’s the time to leave the oil business behind and see how the rest of the world is getting along
. Digging his heel a little more deeply into the car’s plush carpeting, he nudged the speedometer a notch or two higher. Worried for a moment, he removed his sunglasses and scanned the road through his rearview mirror—sometimes a cop car was hard to spot with the sun low in the sky. But Zack’s eyesight was excellent, and he relaxed, realizing he’d seen merely a fellow traveler with wheels as fast as his own.
Already he was enjoying the drive up the coast with an abandon he’d been missing for a long time. He didn’t know exactly where he was going, or how long he’d drive. He decided to allow himself the ultimate luxury of unwinding even as his car wound up, and of seeing where he… wound up. The little joke made him laugh. A silly laugh, and a delighted one, at being able to think of anything so trivial.
Half-way to the Central Coast, Zack felt nothing but relief not to be stopping in Santa Barbara. He continued north on 101 and sped past the San Marcos Pass, taking the long way where it followed the peninsula out into the Pacific, the languorous pace matching his mood. He wasn’t hungry or tired of the drive by the time he was passing the turn-off for Solvang. It was a cute little tourist town—almost too charming. All the buildings matched, and every brunch spot offered
aebleskivers,
the rounds of fried dough the Danes served with powdered sugar and jam.
Delicious … but you have to be in the right mood to enjoy Solvang, and today isn’t the day to play tourist
.
Turning off at San Luis Obispo, charming college town thatit was, he rode past telephone poles festooned with brightly colored posters, and glanced into coffee shops crammed with students exuberant with the fall-energy of a new semester. Even then he didn’t stop, beckoned by an irresistible urge to travel California Highway 1.
The older, narrower road returned him to the coast, and he glided down the big hill toward Morro Bay. The highway contoured beautifully along the deep bay where, as a boy, he’d seen tankers standing off shore, as his father had explained the ways of the great ships.
I could stop. But the place makes me think of business
.
He almost stopped again when he saw the sign “Harmony. Population 18.” But by the time he was considering it, he’d sped past the only access road, and Harmony slipped away in the late morning sun.
“Cambria” announced itself quietly, picture-postcards of streets and houses winking between trees. But the open road bypassed its center, and the one
“Oh, yes, Sir. I realize exactly what you’re about to say. Now, apparently Mr. Marks
can
meet with you for lunch on Friday, if that would suit? If so, I will call back the secretary to confirm.”
“Let me just think for a moment.”
I suppose Friday would work just as well. I can drive beyond Morro Bay now and explore a little. But then I’d need a different place to stay
. “Mary, lunch Friday will work fine. And you’d booked me a Morro Bay motel. Can you cancel that? I’ll find something on my own and let you know where I am, so you can leave me details about the lunch with Will.”
“Oh, yes, very good, Sir. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks, Mary.” Zack closed his phone and returned it to the console.
I suppose now that my meeting is postponed, my vacation starts right now … which means I can turn off the phone
. Hitting the power button, he focused his attention to the road and took in the scenery: sparkling water to his left, and to the right, jagged mountains where land’s end continued to wander ahead of him.
With a deep breath, he settled further into the leather seat. An autumn haze softened the profiles of offshore oil rigs as they marched along in the coastal water, and he found himself naming each of them, ticking off the construction dates and remembering some of the details of their histories.
But now’s the time to leave the oil business behind and see how the rest of the world is getting along
. Digging his heel a little more deeply into the car’s plush carpeting, he nudged the speedometer a notch or two higher. Worried for a moment, he removed his sunglasses and scanned the road through his rearview mirror—sometimes a cop car was hard to spot with the sun low in the sky. But Zack’s eyesight was excellent, and he relaxed, realizing he’d seen merely a fellow traveler with wheels as fast as his own.
Already he was enjoying the drive up the coast with an abandon he’d been missing for a long time. He didn’t know exactly where he was going, or how long he’d drive. He decided to allow himself the ultimate luxury of unwinding even as his car wound up, and of seeing where he… wound up. The little joke made him laugh. A silly laugh, and a delighted one, at being able to think of anything so trivial.
Half-way to the Central Coast, Zack felt nothing but relief not to be stopping in Santa Barbara. He continued north on 101 and sped past the San Marcos Pass, taking the long way where it followed the peninsula out into the Pacific, the languorous pace matching his mood. He wasn’t hungry or tired of the drive by the time he was passing the turn-off for Solvang. It was a cute little tourist town—almost too charming. All the buildings matched, and every brunch spot offered
aebleskivers,
the rounds of fried dough the Danes served with powdered sugar and jam.
Delicious … but you have to be in the right mood to enjoy Solvang, and today isn’t the day to play tourist
.
Turning off at San Luis Obispo, charming college town thatit was, he rode past telephone poles festooned with brightly colored posters, and glanced into coffee shops crammed with students exuberant with the fall-energy of a new semester. Even then he didn’t stop, beckoned by an irresistible urge to travel California Highway 1.
The older, narrower road returned him to the coast, and he glided down the big hill toward Morro Bay. The highway contoured beautifully along the deep bay where, as a boy, he’d seen tankers standing off shore, as his father had explained the ways of the great ships.
I could stop. But the place makes me think of business
.
He almost stopped again when he saw the sign “Harmony. Population 18.” But by the time he was considering it, he’d sped past the only access road, and Harmony slipped away in the late morning sun.
“Cambria” announced itself quietly, picture-postcards of streets and houses winking between trees. But the open road bypassed its center, and the one
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