Back Into the Desert . . .

LA/XC-5 DAYS FIFTEEN, SIXTEEN, AND SEVENTEEN, EIGHTEEN, AND NINETEEN: POSTING FROM BLYTHE, CALIFORNIA

Mileage while in Santa Monica and environs:  454.5

Today’s mileage from Santa Monica to Blythe, CA: 256.9

Total LA/XC-5 mileage: 4,221.0

Road Music:  Politics on Sirius (all this Trump stuff is too irresistable); then ESPN, but they were broadcasting Dodgers vs. Nats, and I’ve checked out of baseball for the season; next, NFL Radio for a preview of Jets at Cardinals (doesn’t look good); finally settled in with my LA/XC-5

“Live” playlist

Weather leaving Santa Monica:  Finally, a cloudy day!  The first one!  A good day to be leaving! (67 degrees)

Weather arriving Blythe: 87 degrees (high driving through the desert was 96)

Five-day state tally: 1 (just Cali)

Gas money to date: $470.14

Guess you gotta play it safe in roll-up-the-sidewalks-at-nine desert towns like Blythe, CA.  Amy at the front desk of my Best Western swore by the great food at the Courtesy Coffee Shop right across the street (MEXICAN FOOD!  SEAFOOD!  AMERICAN FOOD!), and even checked for me to confirm that they’d be serving till 9.  But when I went over at 8;30, the only sign I saw was CLOSED.  So I squeezed

into the nearby Rebel BBQ on South Lovekin (they were also starting to put their chairs upside down on the tables) and was rewarded for my adventurousness with a more than pleasing side salad and bowl of chili, along with a Bud Light.  (Then again, I’m fairly easy to please where food is concerned.)

Took care of my final orders of business in Santa Monica last night and today (Dixie Chicks — check!  Drive Carol to airport — check!  One last romp for Kemba at Huntington Beach — check!) before starting my trek back east.  The duck dog was so freaking excited by the sight of Huntington Beach that he bounded out of

the car and made a beeline for the waves.  By the time I caught up with him and realized I’d left the ball and Chuck-it in the car, there was no way I could drag him back . . . so we made do with a Kong squeaky ball borrowed from Sammy, a nine-week-old pit puppy.  Worked out just fine.

Dixie Chicks: Wow!  Caught the first concert of their 70-date tour at Madison Square Garden in June, and the finale last night at the Hollywood Bowl, another of my bucket-list concert venues (after Red Rocks back in Denver).  What pros those Chicks are!  You’ve got fire-breathing front woman Natalie Maines, who’s obviously still not ready to make nice 10 years after her put-down of Bush the

Younger got the band ex-communicated from country music.  You’ve got long and lean Emily Robison killing it on the guitar and banjo.  And then you’ve got the gorgeous Martie Maguire blasting the hell out of her fiddle.  Show was damn near perfect.

Over on another musical scene, looks like I’ll have to roll with the punches now that oldest son Matt has become one of Lady Gaga’s Little Monsters.  After being on the scene for Gaga’s white-hot Dive Bar Tour kick-off in Nashville last week, he’s decided to ride the wave and stick with his team on tour, calling it a

once-in-a-lifetime experience.  Can’t say I disagree.  Can’t say I wouldn’t do exactly the same thing.  Which means no Matt on the Kentucky Bourbon Trail.  I lose his company, you lose his brilliant guest posts . . . and Kemba keeps his shotgun seat.  Hey, man, I’m cool with his change in plans.  Let’s just all agree that my fatherly flexibility earns me a tour T-shirt and some VIP tix, shall we?

Pretty sure I’ve mentioned my mixed feelings about our pilgrimage to Desert Trip last Friday night at the Empire Polo Club in Indio, CA — same place we went for Stagecoach (country festival) last April.  I guess it’s pretty clear by now that I prefer to identify with the college bros and the millennials who make up the Coachella and Stagecoach crowds, so all the “Oldchella”

jokes were making me a little uneasy.  Though when Dylan took the stage and the crowd rose to their feet, I couldn’t resist saying to Carol and our friend Susan, “How long do you think these guys’ll be able to keep standing?”  About two songs into Dylan’s set, I got my answer:  Not very.

Dylan, by the way, was godawful.  Abysmal.  No acknowledgement whatsoever of his worshipful crowd.  Never got up, as far as we could tell, from his piano.  His voice, never a thing of beauty, was a miserable croak.  Frankly, we’re not even sure he was there:  Instead of closeups of Dylan on the monitors, there was footage of water faucets, garbage cans, down-and-outers, and other downbeat NY scenes that, I suppose, were meant to evoke . . . something.

The good news is that the Stones more than made up for Dylan’s piss-poor performance.  Loud.  Raucous.  Guitars blazing.  Deep cuts.  Favorites.  A great cover of the Beatles’ “Come Together.”  Engaging patter from Mick.  Sly humor from Keith.  (“It’s good to be here.  It’s good to be anywhere.”)  Gracious appreciation of the audience.  On top of it all, it looked like the boys were having a great time together.  We even got a curtain call out of Charlie Watts — first time I’ve ever seen him get out from behind his drum kit.  All in all, two-and-a-half hours of brilliance from the greatest rock and roll band in history.

Got back to Santa Monica at 4AM Saturday, got a few hours of sleep, then switched gears from music to sports, tootling over to the L.A. Coliseum at 11 for Southern Cal vs. Colorado.  We got a “W” out of the men of Troy, even though what initially looked like a blowout turned into a 21-17 nail-biter.  Whatever the score, though, all that USC pageantry, the sea of cardinal-and-gold filling up the huge stadium, never fails to blow me away.

Tried out my brand-new discovery — the Sidewalk Cafe and Sports Bar on Venice Beach — for Jets vs. Steelers on Sunday.  Got the same crummy results, though.  Gang Green actually led 13-7 midway through the second quarter, but that lead turned into a 14-13 deficit by halftime, and then into a rout in the second half.  (31-13 Steelers was the final.)  Guess I gotta find a new sports bar.  Or a new team.  At least the bacon, eggs, and Venice potatoes were good.

I PLAN TO POST AS CLOSE TO DAILY AS POSSIBLE WHILE KEMBA AND I ARE ON THE ROAD. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY: MAN PLANS, GOD LAUGHS. OH, AND BTW, YOU CAN ALSO FOLLOW ME ON FACEBOOK, TWITTER, AND INSTAGRAM.