My favorites used to be route 66 and highway 40 when there were few and far between theme motels built like wigwams and long stretches of highway thru free range country.
The grapevine, also known as Tejon Pass, is a 4,100 foot-high road across the Tehachapi Mountains, 50 miles northwest of Los Angeles, California.
I first rode the grapevine on a hot sunny day in summer of 1945. My husband and I drove from Riverside, California to Redwood City in northern California in our model A Ford. We bought the vehicle ‘as is’ for $100 during WWII. It was cut down, (meaning the top had been removed), and the dashboard remodeled to look like one in an airplane.
Neither of us had driven the route before, having only traveled it by train. The views were magnificent, and we enjoyed watching the many condors as they swooped overhead. We were amazed at their tremendous size never having seen birds larger than robins except in a zoo.
Over the years I have driven the grapevine many times alone, often with family, on occasion with friends, and in all kinds of weather. Elevation signs along the highway pinpoint particular views that are like friends we are happy to see again. The mountain peaks on each side of the highway as you climb higher and higher never fails to astonish. The changing views glimpsed as you round curves are a delight, and the magnificent view of the valley as you descend always takes your breath away.
We always took note of the trucker’s emergency turn off on the way down in case a semi lost brakes. We always reminded ourselves to get out of the way and let the trucker have the road if he came from behind you with his horns blasting. It meant he was ‘ridin’ his truck without brakes and gaining speed on the way down! Everyone has heard or been told about truckers who had been forced to make the descent the hard way.
One holiday season I drove the grapevine in my Corvair van on the way to New Cuyama to spend Christmas at the ranch with the family. Bad weather was predicted so I left Los Angeles a couple of days ahead of the predicted weather but still had to contend with strong winds. I was barely able to keep the van in my lane when the wind gusts hit the side surface of the van.
Another time, Adeline, Mickey and I drove the grapevine on our way to New Cuyama when we heard on the car radio a forest fire had jumped a mountain and was rapidly burning its way toward the grapevine. We could see the fire in the far distance but we were never in any danger.
One of my most memorable trips on the grapevine was when Aunt Nettie, and Uncle Ray and I were on our way home after spending a week with the folks at the ranch in New Cuyama. Nettie had driven her new black Cadillac coming, but she asked if I would like to drive on the way back. I said of course I would and took the wheel.
As usual when two or more of our tribe was together, there was talk of family doin’s and Ray and Nettie began telling me of a particular event. Night had fallen. The ribbons of traffic lights were brilliant; a white ribbon on the opposite side of the highway, and red one ahead in our lanes. As the car ate the miles, the ride was so smooth it was like floating. It was a pleasure having the wheel responding at the lightest touch. I was aware of passing vehicles in the slower lanes and that I was making good time.
I was really enjoying driving Nettie’s car and listening to the conversation. I took a quick glance at the speedometer and did a double take. I asked Nettie if the speedometer said what I thought it said. She said yes and I almost had a heart attack! I was driving over 90 miles and hour and never realized it.
I asked her why she hadn’t warned me or said something. She said she just thought I knew what I was doing! She must have concluded that I was like the rest of the family, a fast driver when the opportunity presented itself. I’m certain that Nettie herself had driven many a mile at that speed if not faster on her many trips from the west coast to the old home place in Oskaloosa, Iowa.
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