When I visited California in 1968 I don't think that I knew another English person who had been there and I considered it to be a huge adventure. My head was full of Hollywood, Hippies, Giant Redwoods, Black Panthers and John Steinbeck. Arriving in New York I made my way by bus to Connecticut to meet up with some people who were driving west in what would now be a vintage classic Oldsmobile. After visiting the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas we headed west on Route 66 eventually arriving in San Fransisco where, amongst other things, I dropped my first tab of acid.
Two things got me thinking about my trip to the Sunset State. One was watching Rich Hall's California Stars, and the other event was my daughter and her boyfriend setting off for a wedding in California as nonchalantly as previous generations might have had a week in Bournemouth.
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