Another Work...

How I drove through Los Angeles traffic on THOSE "freeways" I'll never know!  I was a VERY inexperienced driver, not yet 16, and had driven few vehicles, none of them stolen, gulp!  I'd driven Harold's old Ford Pickup, a Ford farm tractor and a couple of my friend's cars now and then but never a lot of miles and NEVER in hostile traffic!  This WAS "hostile traffic".  I had a rather old California map and had planned the route in my head in the days proceeding my great escape, but when confronted with the LA freeway system I was confused and at times lost.  As I gained on my goal of San Diego I checked my gas guage, it was near empty and I began looking for a gas station just off the freeway with an off-ramp nearby.  I had but 10 dollars, more than enough to fill the Buick's 20 gallon tank.

OMG!

I saw a Texaco sign in the line of an upcoming off-ramp and moved over and made my way to the station.  Since I had stolen the car from my dad I somewhat feared of being caught.  The car WAS Pink and White after all.  Filled up I looked and found an on-ramp and I was on my way again.  San Diego was less than 2 hours away and I knew nothing of my mother's abode, I had never been there!  I had an address though for I had written her many times over the ensuing years, but her replies were few and far between.  As it turned out she had written and mailed letters to me but for reasons I can only surmise, Hazel hid them from me.  None-the-less I had an address, hoped it was accurate and drove on into the morning light.  San Diego was close now, about 2 hours away!

Closer I drew, all my thoughts were of my mother and how long it had been since I even talked to her.  The last time I held her hand was in 1951 when I was almost 8 years old.  Now I was almost 16.

The morning traffic was similar to LA's but fewer jams and less crowded as well.  I pulled off the highway near the airport and went uphill towards where I had the address, the area called "Banker's Hill" and "Prado Terrace".  Up and down the streets I went looking for somewhere where the airport runway was lined up with it.  I had known this hint from what my mother had said to me a long time ago.  It didn't take me too long and I found myself outside a two story apartment building, all white stucco with a red tile roof in a Spanish style so typical of San Diego.  I checked the address I had and it matched!  As I walked quickly towards the stairs a large 4 engine airliner flew overhead, engines roaring and backfiring as it flew towards the airport runway, I was there!