Liquid Granite Corralled

 

Voyage of the Silverado

Liquid Granite Corralled – Days 4-6

Day four of our quest to bring home Liquid Granite, a savage beast, no less, brought us to Westside Motorsports, in Spokane where she was currently pastured. We breakfasted at Frank’s Diner, a go-to place for locals and travelers alike. Frank’s downtown diner is in a railroad car, specifically a Barney-Smith observation car purposed as a Presidential car in 1906 until it was replaced in 1931, it is Car No. 1787. Narrow and lined with booths on either side, we had to sidle down the aisle to access our seats. Breakfast was excellent and the vibe was hometown.

We left Frank’s in the rearview mirror and headed to Westside Motorsports and Jim’s appointment to take receipt and ownership of Liquid Granite. As with any vehicle purchase, the paperwork at Westside was arduous. When that was done and sealed with handshakes, we were taken out to the waiting bike for our introduction.

My attention was heightened during the process of going over the bike with my command performance to test ride the bike at hand. I was nervous; God knows I didn’t want to be the first to scratch this bike and Jim was counting on my report to put himself past any unease at his selection. I geared up but elected to go with my Sketchers rather than my riding boots which are heavy duty and inflexible. My Victory has floorboards and forward break and gear levers that give me an upright riding style. The 2015 Yamaha FJR 1300ES is a true sports touring bike with footpegs and control levers below the rider’s body or slightly back from upright. I could not imagine doing the initial ride with those clodhopper boots trying to find the pegs and getting my foot under the shifter. Even with a few practice attempts while standing still, I looked like a drunk taking off the first couple of times out.

Fortunately, I adapted all right and made the initial ride. Quicker, nimbler, and higher revved than my Victory, I easily saw this to be the bike for Jim. I took one short ride, then another longer one with a nice straightaway to let the bike jump a bit and open up. I gave Jim the two-word quintessential compliment for a bike to its rider, “Nice bike”.

Once back to the dealership, we loaded the beauty on the trailer with some worry as I rode it up the ramp and my feet left the ground at the apex and the bike grounded out due to her low center of gravity. We babied her a bit and got her onboard. We needed padding between the rear straps and the saddlebags. I was able to talk with the cashier, and she went right back to the shop and brought two excellent hand towels, no problem, no charge, and they did the trick.

Lashed into the trailer, the bike reminded me of a wild mustang in a corral. Leading into this post, I messed around with a working subtitle of “The Taming of Liquid Granite”. Taming is not the right word. If you are riding a bike that you feel like you’ve tamed, it is likely you are riding the wrong bike for you. Each bike is built for a specific purpose and style, and bikes are meant to ride with those in mind. Riders need to find the bike that fits them. Don’t try to tame the bike, it will buck you off in the end. We find symbiosis with our bikes, and when we do, it is poetry. The bike performs best at the slightest changes in the rider and loves to be one with the rider while finding the purpose of riding surface and route. Jim is working on it, and I know he will find it. He will sense it when it occurs.

Jim getting to know his new bike in the 'corral'

Jim’s itinerary for Day 5 had us at Frank’s Diner again on our way out of Spokane with an arrival later that day in Eagle, Idaho, where Shirley, Jim’s wife, and their daughter, Christen’s family reside, but Jim had the opportunity to breakfast with his former Master’s Swim Team coach. It was an opportunity well taken advantage of. Wonderful people, good food, and a view of a lazy section of the Spokane River.

Days five and six were spent in Eagle. They were a family affair through and through as we introduced Shirley and Christen’s crew to their new family member. She received mostly oohs and aahs along with a nervous look or two, loving a motorcycle rider is not for the feint of heart.

Jim and I made a quick run to Home Depot for materials to improve the strapping and adjust the ramp to get rid of the centering issue. We picked up two stainless steel quick links to help us secure the front end with the canyon dancer more securely and cleanly. We added some Velcro straps to secure the tails of the ratcheting load straps. To lengthen the trailer ramp and cure the bottoming out issue, Jim picked up a 2X6 and had it cut in three pieces. Finally, I found a pipe insulating material that we cut to length and wrapped the rear straps to cushion the saddle bags.

Having procured our improvement materials, we went straight back to Jim and Shirley’s place to unload the bike and take it out on some low to moderately trafficked streets in the neighborhood. I was first since I rode it off the trailer. And because Jim was a bit nervous. This bike is the heaviest he’s ever ridden. I came back with a couple of tips for Jim as he geared up for his maiden ride. He did it right; first using a couple of exercises he learned in the motorcycle safety course to get the feel of the bike, moving forward under foot power, easing the clutch in and out, leaning one way and the other…then he was off to the end of the street and a roundabout, a great place to practice a nice not-too-tight turn and back. I could see him more relaxed each time he came back to the house. Since our trip and the writing of this post, Jim has ridden on a route he is familiar with so that he can concentrate on improving his feel for the bike without worrying too much about where he’s going. His approach to symbiosis is excellent. I am looking forward to our first ride together.

Our time in Eagle was highlighted by a birthday party thrown for Jim with family and friends. Jim and Shirley have made friends with the neighbors, and they joined us along with Christen’s family, Marc’s parents, and Shirley’s sister and husband. One of the highlights of the party was a viewing of the video made by Rowen, Jim’s granddaughter, just shy of nine years old. The video is a masterpiece. It was something special for Jim and me to carry on to the last leg of our journey.

As best as I can recall and faithfully submitted,

Jerry ‘Shakespeare’ White

PS – Y’all keep the iron side up.

 

PPS – I had planned for this series have three parts, but there does not appear to be thirst for “The Road Home for Liquid Granite”, the working title on the third post. If there comes a time when I need to slack someone’s thirst for it, I’ll finish and post it. 

Chasing Liquid Granite

 

Voyage of the Silverado

Chasing Liquid Granite – Days 1-3

On the road again with Jim

I set off on Monday, July 6, 2026, at 0-dark-30 so that I could arrive at Jim McClelland’s Walnut Creek location by 11:00 a.m. and accompany him on various errands, preparing for our trip ahead. The end goal of our adventure was to deliver a new-to-Jim motorcycle from Spokane, Washington to his place in Walnut Creek, California. He started his odyssey back into motorcycling after a 44-year absence, thou thoughts of doing so periodically crossed his mind over the intervening years.

True to Jim’s favored approach, he did a copious amount of research into the various bikes that fit within his overall desire to have a sport touring bike. His search narrowed to a 2015 Yamaha FJR1300, silver in color if we could find one. Jim located the bike that met nearly all his qualifications for accessories, price, miles, make and model, but not the color and instead zeroed in on a bike in Spokane, Washington that is dark grey, a color named Liquid Granite.

Jim enlisted me onto the road trip to fetch this bike, and I was only too happy to tag along. One of my duties was to test-ride the bike and assure him that it was a fit bike for him. I admit to some trepidation at the prospect of doing the initial ride of what we hoped to be a new joy for him. Nevertheless, I agree to come on to the project team. I haven’t had a road trip with him for several years and as you’ll see, we planned to cover a lot of ground both literally and figuratively. My road miles mapped out to be 2,478 miles as the crow flies, not including test rides and in-town driving.

Leaving before dawn on my Victory Cross Country was a bit nervy for me as it has been a long time since doing a long night ride. My comfort level returned as the miles wore on after navigating the Briggs Terrace twisties and hitting the 210 Freeway. Once I was heading up the Grapevine after passing Castaic Junction, I was near my normal relaxed comfort as dawn slowly brought the ability to drive further ahead back into play, allowing me spot road obstacles earlier rather than too late.

I gassed up in Buttonwillow and ate breakfast at McDonald’s where I was greeted by three Hispanic construction workers heading back to their truck with one the highest complements a biker can hear, “nice bike” accompanied by three thumbs up. A man about my age held the door for me as I entered while he exclaimed, “What a beautiful day for ride. Be safe.” A Filipino family came in and sat nearby. The dad blessed me when I sneezed, joked at me not to forget my helmet as I left it in the seat to bus my table, and then wished me safe travels when I headed out. A cross-section of people with a common asset, kindness in their hearts.

Jim met me in the underground parking lot of The Atrium, the office building where RS+M Design/Engineering have their main offices. Jim is Principal Architect for his firm which designs and builds pools on a large scale for HOAs, municipalities, schools, historic, and heritage sites for hospitality, sports therapy, competitions, and recreation. He pays a bit extra to use parking spaces for his vehicles in the lot. I parked, unloaded, and secured my bike, then tossed my gear into Jim’s truck and off we went to an HOA project site so he could show me the ongoing work and attend a construction meeting. After the meeting we picked up the rental motorcycle trailer from a U-Haul and we were set for the long road to find Liquid Granite.

Our chase was on. Jim was the master planner and a master plan he created with a breakfast at the Buttercup Diner to send us off to Bend, Oregon. We had ample windshield time as we alternated shifts behind the wheel of Jim’s diesel-powered Silverado with its eight-foot bed covered with a nifty shell. The overall length of the transport for our voyage would play a big part during stops throughout the road trip, luck was with us throughout, luck being the residue of design (thank you Branch Rickey).

We had plenty of time for talk, and talk we did; about the last time we went to Spokane when we grabbed my parents in Merlin, Oregon and delivered them to the Walter Estelle memorial service, about our epic Summer of ’72 motorcycle trip and how we could do it in style with my Victory and Jim’s Yamaha, both nicely equipped for such a ride, and things of importance with family, business, and friends and the hopes and dreams we have for all of them. We punctuated our talk with fruitful quiet. There isn’t really such a thing as awkward silence between the best of friends unless there is something weighty that needs to be said that neither friend wants to broach, and even then, the subject won’t be contained for long. During my shift behind the wheel, Jim kept moving things along at RS+M and I gave thought and prayer to things that required it, mostly the invitation to serve LCPC on Session for the coming three years. While Jim drove, I kept up communications with family, the broker searching for a new car for me, and Andrew, our Director of Student Ministries.

That first leg was highlighted with spectacular scenery throughout the drive. We lunched at the Black Bear Diner in Mount Shasta, the original restaurant in the chain and a place we’ve stopped on several of our excursions together. Black Bear is a great go-to place with consistently good menus, service, and facilities. We could have eaten nearly every meal of our trip at Black Bears. But we didn’t.

The second leg, from Bend, Oregon to Spokane, Washinton overlaid much of the Voyage of the Suburban Valdez when we took my parents up to attend the memorial service for a fine and long-time family friend. We relived quite a few moments from that trip during our drive this time around including lunch at C&D Drive-in, home of the Bozo Burger, at Boardman, Oregon, the scene of a riotously funny dinner during our trip back in 2015 which received its own write-up in this blog space.

One of the overall highlights of our trip was the dinner we were able to have with John and Lisa Estelle and John’s wife, Michelle. John found us a table at Anthony’s at Spokane Falls with a spectacular view of the falls. The dinner was full of love, camaraderie, and fun. We caught up, underlined how great it was to have my parents at Walt’s service for Whites, Estelles, and McClellands. I’ll hold on to that evening we had together for a long time.

Our chase for Liquid Granite would conclude the next day and the Voyage of the Silverado would take on a new series of highlights and importance.

Keep the iron side up.

Respectfully submitted,

Jerry ‘Shakespeare’ White

Post one of three parts of the Voyage of the Silverado

Prelude to a 3Rs Ride

 

My 3Rs Ride has taken shape and is now on the home calendar. It looks something like this: Dorthy Street -> W.C. -> P.G. -> L.P. -> P. NV. -> Dorothy Street. The middle section of the multiday ride needs to remain obscure; I wouldn’t want to ruin the suspense for the posts to follow during or about the ride itself and a couple of them should be accompanied by question marks as there are details yet to be ironed out.

I have decided to make efforts to address several issues that have been bugging me. One is that I haven’t taken a multi-day ride of any type in nearly two years. The others I will incorporate into the ride and activities therein.

The 3Rs? Remembrance. Renewal. Resurgence.

Remembrance: I’ve grown tired of whining about not having taken the time to grieve for my parents. Handling their estate did not allow for it, neither did planning their celebration of life. Then I took on weighty responsibilities at church, and added tasks around my father-in-law’s estate, and the adding this and that and blah blah blah… I’m bored with using those things as an excuse for not taking a focused approach to my grief and I will take care of that during this ride.

Don’t get me wrong. I have grieved, and effectively so, while doing all those things that encompass life. I’ve written about my grief and the grief of others for their losses and that helps me process my grief. I have simply not taken stock of what I am grieving, who and what I’ve lost, and what it means to have been their little boy, their growing boy, the father of their grandchildren, and the grandfather of their great-grands.

Renewal: I have let those things that I carped about here topple me from my perch on happiness and joy. I get it here and there, mostly from being with my kids and grandkids. Call me a pessimist, but I’m not one to think I can skip through life sitting on Cloud 9 and joyous all day long, but I need to find that kernel of joy that sparks from time to time. Some other things that can ignite my joy are getting a project done on or around the house, hearing my wife laugh, hanging with teens I’m teaching, riding my motorcycle, seeing a red-tailed hawk soaring (or nearly any other bird), being on or in the water, and writing.

To be sure, some of these things are re-awakening and I am hoping by working through some stuff on this ride, they can become consistent. Especially the writing. This prelude is me getting the match out to light the fire for writing.

Resurgence: Resurgence and renewal are closely related to each other, but I love my friend Webster’s definition of resurgence and so it is the third R: a rising again into life, activity, or prominence.

Here’s to putting a few miles in the saddle and remembering, getting renewed, and finding resurgence.

In His grip and keeping the iron side up,

Jerry ‘Shakespeare’ White

Reprise de Deux

 

Waves of Flags - 2025

Emboldened by my ride for ride’s sake, I took the morning and early afternoon off on the 24th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks and reprised two of my favorite rides: The Ride to the Flags (RTTF) and a group New Year’s Day ride. Sort of. Neither could be duplicated.

The RTTF 2025 was cancelled “due to the Malibu wildfires and logistical challenges they created”. They to be back in 2026. If they are there and I am around, I’ll be around there.

This charity ride typically takes place on the Sunday preceding September 11. The ride begins at Naval Base Ventura – Pt. Mugu, where the 350-500 motorcycles gather for a moving tribute to those lost in the terrorist attacks in 2001, with an invocation, the presentation of the colors, a 21-gun salute, taps, the ringing of the base bell, a fly-over of WWII fighter planes, and moving speeches from base commanders and White Heart Foundation leaders. Following the ceremony, the riders are dismissed to their bikes and form up for the guided ride down the coast to Malibu Bluffs Park, located across the PCH from Pepperdine University, for music, prize drawings, food, and, for those who wish, a walk through the 2,977 flags on the hillside.

Our Victory riders’ group would meet at a strategic place for us and then ride through Fillmore and various canyons to arrive at the naval base.

My solo reprise of the ride started fine as I headed down Highway 23 from Fillmore, but I was soon out of sorts as I was always a follower of our lead rider, either Jed or Tim, who knew the route. I was doing fine, picking one canyon and another, using a dead-reckoning sense to head generally northwest. I finally found my way back to Hwy 118 and would have been happy with that except for the lane closure and walking-riding my bike for the next 25 minutes over two miles or so. Perhaps a U-turn and map check was in order, but I gutted it out to eventually find my way past the closed-to-me naval base, down my favorite stretch of Southern California coastline to Pepperdine, where I parked on Malibu Canyon Road so that I could take my walk through the flags.

Other riders had the same idea as I, and there were a couple of small groups of riders already there, with riders arriving as I walked. It wasn’t the same without hundreds of bikers there with my friends among them, though I am always moved by that walk. I always feel closest to my country during this walk, even during these divisive times, so perilous to our democracy.

My walk on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/CTT0C232bhM

It had been a tradition amongst our ride group to gather on New Year’s Day for a ride, most times with us ending the ride at Duke’s Malibu for lunch. On those occasions we stayed north for the ride, we would generally follow the same route as the RTTF ride and end up at Duke’s. After my walk through the flags, I threw my leg over the bike and rode down the coast to Duke’s.

The similarity to our New Year’s Day ride ended at the northern reaches of the Palisades Fire from January 2025. Closed beaches, burned-out husks of beachfront homes, and cleared lots on both sides of PCH. It was disturbing and eerie, with a cluster of hillside homes intact and untouched, while across the highway and right on the beach, there was a half-mile section of burned-out lots. The capricious nature of wildfires never ceases to amaze me, and because of that, I am always on alert and in prayer for our firefighters, especially my son-in-law, Taylor.

Duke’s Malibu was spared from the flames but was flooded out with the first rains. I pulled into the lot just as we always have, much to the chagrin of the construction crews hard at work to restore the restaurant for a fall reopening.

Duke's under repair - 9/11/2025

My ride home was uneventful. I took the shortest route home, riding through Malibu Canyon to Highway 101, south through the valley, and up the 2 freeway to La Crescenta. I don’t even like driving that route, let alone riding it. I just wanted to get home.

Keep the iron side up, my friends, and never forget.

Jerry ‘Shakespeare’ White

 

Ride, For Ride's Sake

 

Shakespeare on The Snake, Mulholland Highway

I like the title I picked, though it’s not altogether accurate unless I were to tweak what it means to ride a motorcycle, at least in and of itself. Riding for the sake of riding is tough for me. There is always a personal benefit from the ride, even if it is a simple ride out, around, and back home.

I took a little ride today, Saturday, September 6, 2025. These days, that is a notable accomplishment. For the last three months or so, I have had to resort to old-time and task management tools to give myself the best chance to stay current with responsibilities at home, for my father-in-law’s estate, church, and personal priorities.

On my three-page tracking sheet, I have a table for weekly activities like home and estate bills, home and estate yardwork, taking out the trash at both places, exercise, riding, and writing. Using the Eisenhower Matrix, the two goals that are at the top and most important to me, but not urgent, are writing and riding. I want to ride 2-3 times each week and write six days a week. My stated goals are a little smaller on these to give myself a chance of shading them green at the end of the week. Even so, they have nearly always been in the red. I am taking steps to change these goals from red to green. Today’s ride was a step. For both.

An Eisenhower Matrix

My tracking sheet has a section to track projects with multiple steps and a list of things I plan or need to do during the week to move the projects along and simply keep up with the flow of life. I end up carrying over task items from week to week at about 8-10 per week. Some of the tasks are carried over for multiple weeks. Obviously, these tasks haven’t reached critically urgent status on the Eisenhower Matrix. But they will.

To meet my riding and writing goals on a more consistent basis, I need to move them up on the urgency scale. To do that, I need to rearrange priorities and get rid of tasks that are unimportant and not urgent to me. This won’t be easy because they are important or urgent for someone close enough to me that I give them access to my tracking sheet. Another thing I need to do is to complete some of the more persistent tasks and projects.

Today’s ride was a relatively short 36.9 miles that took me up Big Tujunga Canyon, over Angeles Forest Highway to Angeles Crest Highway, down to Foothill Blvd., and on to home. The ride was comfortable, easy-going, and therapeutic. It was the first ride in a couple of months that was more than riding to church and taking a 15-mile route home.

And the bonus? I’m sitting here writing about the ride.

Keep the iron side up and ride, for ride’s sake.

Jerry ‘Shakespeare’ White

From Worn and Frayed to Slick and Shiny

 

Pt. Mugu on the PCH Northbound

Always make sure your rubber is up to the task.

How are your tires? Are they good for taking the long way home with the few twisties you like? Always take a peek before you throw your leg over, make it part of your own circle of safety as you walk around your bike to make sure there are no loose ends and everything is shipshape for your ride. Planning a long trip? Do more than peek, inspect everything. Who needs to be halfway between Bass Lake and Yosemite when a tire goes or your battery gives up the ghost?

The last few weeks I’ve been planning a 1500-mile ride that includes, a run up the coast from Santa Monica to Cayucos, over to Walnut Creek to visit my best friend Jim and take in a Giants game with him, then ride through Yosemite to stay in Lee Vining before riding through Death Valley to Pahrump (a scene visit for my book) before heading home.

I made a checklist for myself:

• Q  Check battery and replace as needed
• Q  Ensure tire wear is in line for a 1500-mile ride
• Q  Inspect helmet, replace if it is time (okay, I’ve wanted to make a change anyway)
• Q  Check brakes, belts, electrical cables, and nuts and bolts
• r  Wash the bike, especially the windscreen
• r  Change the oil and filter
• r  Check tire pressure

The battery was a no brainer because I suspected it was at its end. The helmet was easy too simply because I’ve wanted to make a change and upgrade my helmet cam/communications unit anyway. Brakes, belts, and such I do regularly. The tires on my Victory Cross Country? I needed help. I suspected the rear tire needed to be changed because it appeared close to the wear marks. The front tire I thought might be okay for my trip.  The receipt from the last tire change was not to be found and I wanted to go back to the same place. They were/are very good and being a repeat customer is a good thing to be. There is something comforting about having someone you trust work on your bike. My friend Jed gave me a recommendation and bingo, it was the place. Jed was likely the person who sent me to M-C Tire Works in the first place.

My grand plan for the day of the tire change was to arrive promptly when they opened at 9am, kill time while they worked their magic with a little reading and writing, and then ride up to Santa Barbara via the coast route to catch my grandson’s freshman football game. It was a brilliant plan that needed a bit of tweaking with Jeremiah’s game being pushed back a couple of hours. It turned out I would need the extra time and extra tweaking.

I was a few minutes early and was there to watch Tony open up the shop for the day and greet the technician who would work on my bike. Tony and I walked around the bike so he could assess my needs. It turned out that I really needed his practiced eye. My front tire was due, there was no maybe about it. The rear tire had some miles left on it and Tony said I could have the 1500 miles left on it but couldn’t make anything certain as every bike and rider wear tires in their own way. I opted to go with the safe and secure option. Finding a lift and getting a new tire in Death Valley at 120-degrees with a blown tire is dicey thing, we’ve already lost a couple of riders this year to the heat out there.

They were done with the work at just under the estimated time and I was ready to roll out by 11am or so. This is where I found the need for more tweaking for the ride up to Santa Barbara. Tony reminded me that the new tires are slick and need 100 miles of careful riding. I remembered the slick part, just not the 100-mile recommendation. I had to watch for water, tight turns, and be mindful of my throttle. He pointed out a sign on the counter warning about the slickness, the 100-mile recommendation. The sign ended with, “Too much gas and you will be on your ass.”

I am a big fan of M-C Tireworks! 5 of 5 ês!

I took these things seriously and altered my route to use as much surface street mileage as possible from North Hills to Malibu Canyon. Traffic wasn’t bad, thankfully. I left plenty of space between me and the next guy and maintained a good safety bubble. I made the most of the ride up Venture Blvd. When I was a Communications Technician for the phone factory I had offices all throughout the valley and good memories accompanied me along the ride.

Malibu Canyon presented the big challenge and was a cause for some clinching and I’m not talking about my teeth. I thought it would be okay since there would likely be traffic to hold me in check and I was correct. Traffic up PCH was reasonable with only one or two cagers trying to run up my tailpipes. I had enough space on the 101 Highway from Oxnard up to Santa Barbara and simply bided my time until I got off the highway at Cabrillo Blvd. to ride along the coastal part of Santa Barbara. I came to a stop at Milpas and Cabrillo and hit the 100 miles dead on. Now, I didn’t immediately start slaloming through Santa Barbara traffic and hitting the gas on every turn. Not my style. However, I breathed a bit easier.

I made it to the game to watch an improved San Marcos High Royals’ team play with my grandson at center, the prize at the end of the ride. This made it a night ride home which was fine by me, though it had been a while since I’d taken a long one at night.

As an epilog of sorts to this post, I took my wife’s car in for a quick oil change and added on a change of break fluid while we were at it. During the process to change the fluid the tires were removed and I was treated to their technician rolling a tire over to me and pointing out some damage, pictured here. At some point, one of us hit something sharp and we were close to having a blowout at any time. Too close.

Inside edge of an otherwise healthy tire...

My takeaway from this is whether bike, car, truck, with or without a trailer – check the rubber and make sure it is up to the task.

Keep the iron side up my friends!

Jerry ‘Shakespeare’ White

Paradise Remembered

 

Jerry White heading down the pier for the next boat...

The Sandcastle Restaurant, what is now known as Paradise Cove Beach Cafe, has been a mainstay of Paradise Cove in Malibu, California since before WWII when it was first set up as a club house. James Garner in The Rockford Files had his mobile home just up the beach from the cafe. Mel Gibson had his trailer just down the beach from the café in the Lethal Weapon films. Cindy and I celebrated our 48^th anniversary at the café with our feet in the sand and an excellent meal.

Cindy's and my Paradise Cove Beach Cafe Brunch. What a view!

The place played a key role in my recovery after my dark days that included the breakup with my fiancé and the dashing of my hoop dreams, if playing Division II college ball could be called a dream. One likely hastened the other and ushered in a period of wandering. Doug Clark got me a job with him working as a Pier Coolie running the boat hoist on weekends, maintaining the rental fleet of fiberglass boats and their 5-hp motors, and other pier related duties. During the summer of ’74, I ended up living in his parents’ single-wide mobile home while working full time just after my parents moved away and left me. Okay, I had the option of moving with them to Concord, California but opted to stay since I had a new girlfriend and was getting my college life back on track. Yes, it was Cindy and that was the best decision of my life.

 

Doug and I would arrive at the locked gates of the pier at 5:30am after a fine breakfast at the café ready for a hectic morning of launching boats. The first person in line was nearly always someone from the mobile home park who’d slept in their car so they could catch the first fish. The weekend line would often stretch along the entry road and wind up and out onto PCH.  

 

After checking that all was ready and with the nod of Bob Morris, who ran the pier and now owns the restaurant, we opened the gates. Doug and I each towed a boat behind a golf cart and up to the hoist where another Bob ran the rig. While one boat was hoisted over and into the water, one of us would pull a red fiberglass rental boat to be third over the side. In two hours or so we would launch around 100 boats. By 6pm, all but one boat would be retrieved, the one holdout rocking at anchor for their weekend of fishing.

 

The cabin cruiser at anchor was owned by a middle-aged couple with no kids to worry about and was easily the biggest boat we would launch as the hoist groaned with the weight. They went out nearly every weekend except when they pulled the boat south and fished out of San Diego. These folks always brought us the best smoked yellowtail or tuna from their southern trips in appreciation for us getting them on the water and out again.

 

On days when the water was nearly flat and glassy, we would drop Tex Clark’s boat over the side of the pier and ski. I was never comfortable with the idea skiing with sharks that far out but Doug convinced me that we would be inside the kept line and everyone knew sharks stay out. Right? The first time we out was after we closed the pier. Earlier, a boat came in with two blue sharks draped over the bow of their boat. Doug’s argument was they were fishing up around Point Dume and off Zuma Beach, a known breeding ground for blue sharks. I acquiesced. Then a competition skier came in after training for a race out to Catalina and back. He was shaking and told us how he just missed skiing over a big shark. Doug argued that he was training well beyond the kelp line. Later, to top off the shark parade, a pier fisherman caught a leopard shark, those popular sharks then populating Marineland. It was not uncommon for me to yell “hit it!” as Doug tossed me the rope. I couldn’t get on top of the ski fast enough. Good times though.

 

When we were dating, Cindy would come down to the cove and visit. While I worked, she read, tanned, and swam. The L.A. County Lifeguards maintained a Baywatch boat at the end of the pier and they had a one-person hut with a nice telescope. I could find her almost all the time unless she hiked further up toward Point Dume. Paradise Cove is a special place for us.

 

Paradise Cove Beach Café has its walls nearly covered at every conceivable point with black and white photos of the glory days of the Malibu area with the cove featuring heavily. Some of them date back to the 30s and cover every decade since. Autographed movie star 8X10 glossies festoon the soffit above the bar.

 

We would see celebs who walked to the end of the pier sometimes. Barbara Streisand who didn’t last too long because she got swamped by fans; Sony Bono who had chartered the smaller fishing boat but wasn’t too friendly we think because it was during his divorce with Cher; and others. Our top though was Vincent Price who was there to go fishing out on the Gentleman with his 11-year-old granddaughter. He came by and talked with Doug and I about fishing and introduced his granddaughter. One of the regular pier-fishermen, a trailer park resident, came over and asked if Mr. Price would mind going over to say hello to the man’s mother over in a wheelchair, fishing pole in hand. He went over, squatted down to get eye level and proceeded to chat like they were old friends. One class act.

The Gentleman that Vincent Price and his granddaughter went out on a half-day excusion.

I love looking over the photos and, on this day, I struck gold. As I was walking out through a walkway little used by the public as there is a wait-station there for cutlery and cups I saw the photo below hung on the wall above the entry. I laughed out loud as I recognized myself driving the golf cart and shared my joy with the busboy boy busy putting service groups together.

The pier, now a stubby remainder, then with the hoist, boats waiting for launch and me heading down for the next one.

 

It was a great day to fondly remember Paradise Cove.

 

My hope is that you have your own version of Paradise Cove.

 

Peace.