Well, it is still a bit cool here in the mornings, donning jacket and leather chaps we head out for the day.
Highway 1 continues to snakes it way south along the Pacific Ocean, the drive is beautiful and quiet. Around 5:00 pm we hit Malibu, Ca. Now life on this sleepy little highway picks up! I find myself doing 55-60mph in a 40 mph zone just to keep from getting run over.
No longer do we stand along the cliffs and look down at the white beaches, no more para-surfing. Now all that fills my sights are condominiums crowding the way with little glimpses of beach front.

We rounded a corner and there was a van flipped over in front of us. It must have just happened; the occupants were still trying to get out. I pulled over to see if they needed help. The two occupants that made it out were sitting on the sidewalk, a little dazed and scratched but ok.

There was still one man left in the van; it appeared that he was trying to free his leg. Another man stopped to help also, name was Angel I thought it was very appropriate. Meanwhile several bystanders were calling 911. I was trying to talk to the man in the van thru the windshield. I didn’t know if he couldn’t hear me, or if he didn’t speak English.

I was trying to tell him to stop moving and sit still until paramedics arrived. Angel was translating for me in case the trapped man didn’t speak English. He finally stopped moving, and indicated that his left side hurt and his right leg was still trapped. The police arrived about this time.

I was surprised at how rude the police were to us, and even ruder to the men that were in the accident. When we asked the police later how they thought this happened he replied, “Stupidity”. It made me mad that they judged the men before they had the truth.
We left when the paramedics arrived; one paramedic and one policeman thanked us for stopping. Angel wandered over to our bikes as we were gearing up and asked my name. I asked him if he knew the men and thanked him for his help in translating and providing paper towels to stop the bleeding on the other two guys. He didn’t know them, but he wanted to tell me thank you, “most people, when they see Mexicans don’t stop, they just look and drive on by, thank you so much for stopping, I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

What a nice man, I’m glad I met him.

The rest of the drive to Santa Monica was uneventful, thank goodness. I definitely rode differently after seeing that accident.
We got to the Santa Monica pier around 6:00 pm, the pier was packed with people. I was amazed to see the carnival rides complete with Ferris wheel! All the sights and sounds that go along with a carnival, cotton candy, the metallic music from the carousel wheel, all the stuffed animals hanging, begging you to win them and take them home.

One half of the pier is the carnival the other half is shops and street vendors. There are artist there that can carve your image in clay in less than 20 minutes! The likeness was amazing. I saw puppeteers, jugglers, painters and sketch artist. At the end of the pier people were fishing, live music from a one man band echoed out across the water, just behind the Mexican restaurant.

The breeze felt good against the city heat, even this late in the day but the sun would be setting soon and we needed to be on the other side of LA before night fall.
Rumor has it that Route 66 starts at the Santa Monica pier, I tried to find it so that we could take it thru LA. This is probably the most troublesome part of Route 66. If we were in car I could navigate it better but since we were on a bike we choose to get on Highway 10 and cross over LA then pick Route 66 up on the other side. I was later to find out that Route 66 doesnt start at Santa Monica Pier; that was an advertising gimick to promote Will Rogers latest film; complete with a plaque.

By nightfall we found ourselves in West Covina. It was a good place to call it a night. Tomorrow we would find a book store and get some good maps and head out.