ONLINE EDITION FRIDAY NOVEMBER 9, 2001

Opinion

The return flight from San Diego to Kennedy started off auspiciously. The person in charge of baggage and carry-on items began to rummage through my carry-on bag.

Eureka! She had discovered my nose scissors. She cast a doubtful look at me and stated, "I will have to keep this." I tried to defend my one inch scissors (it had a rounded end - no point), but the rebuttal was useless. This confiscation emboldened her and she took my combination nail file, screwdriver and bottle opener (all under one inch long).

I have been carrying it around for about four years and I was real sorry to see it go. I was happy to be allowed on the plane and I prepared for the five hour trip to Kennedy. The transcontinental trip was peaceful and uneventful.

Lorraine and I had spent eight days driving down the California coast from San Francisco to Los Angeles and San Diego. It had always been one of my unrealized dreams. I remember Dustin Hoffman driving up and down these same highways in The Graduate in pursuit of Mrs. Robinson's daughter, Kathryn Ross. He was in a hurry and we were doing it in four days.

With the Pacific Ocean on the right and the rugged mountains on the left it is a sightseer's paradise. Highway 1 and 101 in many spots are four-lane freeways in many stretches. Seven hundred miles traveled and not one toll paid. It really was a "free-way."

First stop was Cambria, a seaside town five miles from the Hearst Castle. The Pacific coast is rockier than the Hamptons topography and the seals and birds live on the many small islands off the coast.

Santa Barbara was our next stopover. Palm trees, beach volleyball and piers jutting into the ocean are my memories of this elegant location. Oil rigs are also visible about a mile or two out in the ocean.

Los Angeles was our next destination. We passed through Malibu and viewed the seaside homes of the Hollywood movie stars. Very chic! Very fashionable!

The huge, awesome Santa Monica mountains were now on our left as we motored to Los Angeles. I saw a sign that said Mulholland Drive and made a quick turn up the mountain. Lorraine pleaded with me to "turn around," but I was on an impulsive mission that made absolutely no sense. I saw Nick Nolte in the film Mulholland Drive and perhaps that was part of my dumb, rash thinking in making that left turn.

The two-lane road went straight up and around the mountain. Hairpin turns and 2,000-foot drops were everywhere. I took the turns with my wheels equally on both sides of the yellow line. Fortunately for us, no cars came from the opposite direction.

My palms were sweating and I took the curves doing two miles an hour. Lorraine again asked me to turn around but the road was too narrow for a U-turn. Forty minutes (it seemed like three hours) later we found a normal road which took us back to US1.

I must report that I had nightmares of falling off a mountain for two straight nights after that adventure.

In Los Angeles we went to the Getty Museum. It was a dual experience. One - the paintings and statuary. They are good but not great. They could all fit into one building but they are dispersed in four buildings, over about five or six acres.

Two - the landscaping and gardens were breathtaking. The tram ride up the mountain was interesting but not necessary to an afternoon viewing of museum art.

On to San Diego to see my grandchildren Rachel and Eli, my daughter Cara and son-in-law Eric. We spent four days in San Diego just doing family things. You miss doing trivial things together when your family is 3,000 miles away.

I have already mentioned my adventure at San Diego Airport meeting with the authorities. After eight days in strange beds there is no substitute for sleeping in your own bed.

Be it ever so humble ...