27 years ago I flew JFK/SFO on a DC-10 for my interview with Ampex Corp in Redwood City. I remember my doe-eyed stare out the left side of the plane; my first adult view of the peninsula. Although I had never gone through that sequence of events, everything seemed natural: the plane flight, renting the car, driving for my first time southbound on 101, the warm evening air blowing in the windows, drowning me with excitement, like a fly in “absinthe classic”. My destination was an orange-roofed Howard Johnsons (is there any other kind?) on Whipple Ave where I would stay the night before the interview.
I repeated a similar but different sequence of events this morning: a BOS/SFO flight I’ve flown countless (80?) times, renting the car, and then a strange thing. I’m driving south again on 101 to have coffee with some friends when I exit on Whipple Ave and drive past that (still) orange-roofed Howard Johnsons. A warm feeling comes over me. The actions portend something good, I believe, just as it did back in 1981. I hop back on the 101 to meet my friends, just off Willow, not Whipple Ave.