I met Ernie on a scenic overlook on a magnificent stretch of the Big Sur. He was retired from a life of academics and consulting in Washington, D.C. He now had all the time in the world to sit on the edge of the continent and shoot the breeze.
We talked about life, culture and natural beauty of the USA from the East coast to the West coast. Ernie followed the spring weather like a bird. He started his migration North when the flowers blossomed in Arizona in March and followed the Pacific Coast to the Northwest by summer.
His motor home was more mobile junkyard than motor home. He had tools, knickknacks and clutter dangling everywhere and plants growing from the soil on his dashboard.
Ernie was a techno-phobe who admitted to being wary of the Internet and any new trends embraced by Californians. I made my case for the creative and political potential of the Internet, while Ernie scoffed.
We were two different breads of mobile vagabonds. He was rustic driftwood. I was digital. He was migrating North and I was roving South. It was a pleasure crossing his path.
Next Stop – An American Castle, Hearst Castle