“It’s not like the old days.” “It’s not the same.” “We just stay at home, nowadays.” These are the frequent phrases yours truly has heard this past week about what Maderans were going to do on New Year’s.
The monthly travelogue from the-ever itinerant Maderan, Leon Emo.
Every week, except in the dead of winter, thousands of people drive out of Reno or Carson City to visit the historic Comstock town of Virginia City.
Note: The last in the series of the author’s memories of San Francisco in 1967 and the Summer of Love.
My gal and I had taken Highway 101 to the Bay too many times to remember — in our younger days to party in the City, but lately it seemed to see a specialist for heart or back, or for a hospital stay.
G entle reader, young and old, longtime Maderan, or a recent citizen, please ride with me, a kid just turned 12, on my Schwinn bicycle on a summer Saturday morning in the late 1950s along what was known as F
I headed out of Keeler on the east side of the wasteland that is all that is left of once beautiful and pristine Owens Lake.
The temperature was in triple digits as we drove eastward from the shore of the Salton Sea to what is known as Slab City. It was hot even for this lover of the desert.