From Timbuktoo (San Diego) to Kalamazoo (Rosarito, Mexico)

First of all, 1972 was the best looking year for the Fiat Spider, so I forgive myself for buying a Fiat Spider EVEN THOUGH I bought it in the gorgeous but failing light of dusk in San Diego (see previous post "Junky White Mach 1").  I paid $450 for this beauty.  Like many such vehicles, the person selling it to me acted as though the car had "jilted" them.  "It needs a new head gasket, or something..." the woman derided, squinting at the car.  Then she switched back to her 40-something-OceanBeach-Partygirl personality and added, "it's a totally fun car, I bet you would have soooo much fun in it!" She was sufficiently irritated with the car when I got it started, that I decided to come back and pick it up the following day (you can't dance off with someone's ex, right?).  I gave her the money, took the keys, and put a steering wheel lock on it; I didn't want any "one last night" impulses.

But my favorite story has nothing to do with such intrigue as is suggested here. Actually, it wasn't a bad car, and it was reliable enough (a pretty low bar in my auto realm) that I drove down to Mexico with Mary Ellen when she came to visit me.  My room-mate at the time, Jimmy-Joe, had a little cabin just south of Rosarito, Mexico, on a high cliff overlooking the Pacific.  Mary Ellen and I set off, it was a gorgeous day.  I can't remember whether Mary Ellen lent me her Revo sunglasses on this trip, or a previous trip, but in either case she gave them to me because I liked how the world looked through them so much.  They are dichroic blue and turn the world gold when you look through them, perfect for this trip.  We cruised down through Tijuana (did we stop at "El Gordo's" for tacos?), along the coastal road, just smiling and enjoying the day.  The road turns inland a bit to pass to the east of Rosarito, and I noticed a tourist ship docked on the far side of the town.  "Wow, that's a big cruise ship, " I remarked to Mary Ellen, "I don't think there's even standing room in Rosarito for that many people."  "That IS a really big ship," replied ME, "I didn't think it would keep getting bigger, but,..  it's F-ing huge!"  "How do they do it?  How can a town of 500 people accommodate 2,500 people getting off a ship?"  We talked at length about this, well, to be more exact, we talked the length of the ship about this because it took us quite some time to get past it.  It looked stylish and familiar, and did I mention HUGE.  "How do they even park a boat like that here?" I pondered. We paused taking a last look at the boat, now moving into our mirrors. 

 "Mexico," said ME, "it sure is weird!"  

And with that we never mentioned the boat again, I don't even think we acknowledged it on our return journey.  The dirt road to Jimmy Joe's cabin was insane.  I still remember calculating the parallel wheel tracks through the obstacle course and the Fiat making it surprisingly easily.  The road turned downhill so sharply as we came into view of the Pacific that it felt like going over the top of a roller-coaster.  ME had to get out, "It's not that I think you should die alone, and I don't even think you're going to die, but I just can't stay in the car for this part," she said.  It was definitely one of the steepest inclines I've ever descended in a vehicle of any type.  100 yards later, it leveled out enough for ME to get back in.  100 yards after that, we found the cabin, the caretaker, and a lovely view of the setting sun.  

Two weeks after this trip, my somewhat crazy friend Igor invited me to come down to Mexico with his girlfriend Melinda.  They were making another documentary film and they had heard that some Los Angeles Studio was "outsourcing" their work to Mexico because they could pay substandard wages and avoid unions, etc.  Since my friends Bryan, Anna, Mike, and Natalie were visiting, I thought it would be a great outing and a way to let my friends get to know one another.  I was very involved in the cubic foot of chocolate-covered almonds Natalie had brought (she worked for M&M at the time) and was hardly paying attention to the discussion about the Los Angeles Movie Studio.  Apparently, they had built one of the biggest sound-stages on earth, next to a giant pool they had contructed to film "The Titanic". It was an ecological and economic behemoth, especially considering this was all taking place in Rosarito, a tiny town in Mexico.

"Wait," I said, "This is in that little town, Rosarito, just south of Tijuana?"  "You know where Rosarito is, John, where did you think we were talking about?" asked Melinda.  "Oh, and they're filming the Titanic?"  "Yes, I already told you that!"  "Is the pool outside or inside?"  "It's the Titanic, John, It's a 10/11th's scale model; of course it's outside!"

"Oh yeah, I've seen that." I said. 

"And you didn't realize that was where we're going?"

"You know, Mexico, It's so Weird!"