I Have Four Children. Their Names are Annie, Hank, Gabe, and Leah

Posted 2/8/10. Many people do not know that Jennifer and I had a baby, Leah, who died. She was born Monday, November 25, 1996, and died Friday, November 29, 1996, after five days of living only in a hospital. This is a picture of her in the last hour of her life; she had breathing problems she could not overcome.

One of the reasons that many people do not know about Leah is that I do not tell them about her. Privately, among our family and close friends, we of course speak of her and remember her. Every November around her birthday, a time of year that is particularly hard for her mother, we recognize her life by lighting a candle or hiking, as a family, up to the hill where we scattered her ashes. We talk about her freely with our sons, who never met her and will never understand the impact she has had on their lives.

Among people I do not know, however, talking about Leah represents an awkward challenge. Whenever a new book of mine comes out, the publisher releases biographical material about me that typically mentions the fact that I have children. I often speak publicly in front of groups, and occasionally do radio and TV interviews. These, too, generally mention my children, at least in passing, and this is where the awkwardness comes in. Do I say I have four children, or three?

This issue arose again last month when I was putting the finishing touches on the second edition of The Everything Father To Be Book, A Survival Guide for Men, which will be released this year. In my acknowledgments for the book, I thanked only three of my children by name, leaving out Leah. There was a reason for this. When you are having a baby, understandably, the last thing you want to hear is that something bad can happen to your child. I have written three parenting books, and after Leah died I had a spirited discussion with an editor (not my current one) about how much I should talk about her death when writing for expectant mothers and fathers.

"When you talk about that," she said (and she was a mother herself, and not unsympathetic to my concerns), "it puts the book in another category. It's no longer a parenting guide, it's a book about loss and recovery from loss." Indeed. As this blog post shows, as soon as I start talking about Leah the discussion becomes somber and the audience falls silent.

So, in my writing (especially for new parents) and my public speaking, I have generally avoided the subject, sticking with the public fiction of three children rather than the personal truth of four. Until the other day when I was watching TV. A man came on who was being interviewed on some issue or another. I can't recall his name, what program he was on, or the issue he was talking about. What I remember is that he said he was the father of two children, one of whom had died. "An angel," he called her. His eyes became teary. The host changed the topic, and they went on to discuss whatever it was they were supposed to talk about.

I was struck by this man's courage to be open about a hidden hurt. Following his lead, I decided to change my approach. I rewrote the acknowledgments to The Everything Father To Be Book, dedicating the book to all my children and mentioning them all by name. Is a child who is gone still your child? She is, and always will be. I have four children, and their names are Annie, Hank, Gabe and Leah.

Annie, who is now in college, with her sister

Ex-Bruins Turn out to Support Ex-Bruin at World’s Greatest Car & Plane Bookstore

Posted 2/1/10. The world’s greatest car and plane bookstore is located at 3524 West Magnolia Boulevard in Burbank in the heart of San Fernando Valley car country, not far from Warner Bros. studios and the Big Dog Garage, where Jay Leno houses his spectacular private collection of classic cars and motorcycles. Leno, who frequently shows up at car shows in the valley and who can be seen driving an antique steamer or some other rare and expensive vehicle of his around town, often drops in at Autobooks-Aerobooks to pick up a technical manual for an Olds Toronado with 1,000 horsepower or a Mercedes SLR McClaren or some other car that he and his staff of mechanics are working on.

Autobooks-Aerobooks, owned by the husband and wife team of Tina Van Curen and Chuck Forward, is the biggest and oldest (founded in 1951) car bookstore in the United States, and it draws car buffs from around the state, country and world. As such I felt a little sheepish driving up to my signing on Saturday, seeing a bunch of guys standing outside the store talking and showing off their rides in the rear parking lot. Feeling that my road-weary 11-year-old Toyota Camry might not be the most impressive set of wheels for a car author to roll up in, I discretely parked out of view on a side street and walked in the front door. 

Not that anyone would have cared; nobody really showed up to see me except for my longtime friend and former UCLA roustabout Gary Grillo and his daughters Maddy and Kate (pictured between Chuck Forward, left, and Gary on the right). Also making the scene was another ex-Bruin, Al Stamler, whom I had not seen in decades. Here’s a story of how the Internet can make connections: One day last month Al, wondering whatever happened to a mutual friend of ours, Randy Breckenridge, googled his name. Up popped a blog I had written about Randy, recalling our adventures on the Colorado River and the fact that he had died.

Randy was another UCLA pal; that was where we met. He lived on the same dorm floor as Gary, Al and me. After (and during) college Randy and I rafted rivers and climbed mountains and kicked around Yosemite together, and I dedicated Wheels of Change to his memory. The book, sadly, is filled with the stories of daring young men who, like Randy, died too young. (Though he did not die in a car accident, but other circumstances.) Al, who lives in the San Fernando Valley (and is pictured here), had lost touch with Randy over the years and was shocked to read what happened to him in my blog. He dropped me an email, I told him about my signing at Autobooks-Aerobooks, and he swung by the store a few minutes before noon. After concluding my authorial duties we stepped down the block to Porto’s for lunch, catching up with each other and agreeing that yes, life can be a tough proposition at times, and—to borrow the line of playwright and raconteur Wilson Mizner—"the first hundred years are the hardest.”

 

Of Doppelgangers, Italy, Streak Running, and Kaddish: Notes From Around the Globe

 Posted 1/22/10. Last week’s blog on my adventures at a naked beach drove Annette Kaiser of San Jose, California, to her dictionary to find out the actual meaning of the word “doppelganger.” I confess I did not know what a doppelganger was when I used it to describe a certain portion of the anatomy of the fellows running around unclothed at Baker Beach in San Francisco; it just sounded funny to me. A doppelganger, says Annette, a dedicated crossword puzzler who knows her way around dictionaries, refers to a person’s “evil twin,” which makes the reference even funnier, I think.

Looking to go to Italy? And learn some Italian while you’re there? Do you have long-lost family relatives in Italy and need help in finding or contacting them? Beyond the Sights can do all these things for you—and more. It is a new travel business just begun by my very own bro, Dave Nelson. And when you get to Italy on a Beyond the Sights tour, these are the five Italian instructors who will be teaching you the language. Ciao, baby! 

 Steve Conlin, aka Steve the Bartender, dropped me a line the other day, saying that he has moved from the Los Angeles area—formerly he was a bartender for the stars, at the old Bel Air Hotel in Beverly Hills—to Las Vegas. You may recall Steve’s contribution to this column not long ago, his sharp recitation of the events surrounding actor James Dean’s death. Steve is “now appearing,” as he says, at Wynn Las Vegas. Next time you’re there, look him up and ask how a novel he is thinking about writing—“a Southwest desert noir novel concept featuring a bartender/detective character in the tradition of Philip Marlowe”—is faring.

Ever hear of streak running? Neither had I until I got a note from Nancy Shohet West, who is a writer and streak runner who has enjoyed my Runner’s Book of Daily Inspiration. Streak running is not running around with your clothes off, like those fellows at Baker Beach. It is, says Nancy, “ a term to describe people who run a mile or more every day without ever taking a day off.” Nancy does indeed run a mile or more every day, and she blogs and tweets about it with the same energy and enthusiasm she gives to her streaking. Last I checked, Nancy was up to Day #895 in her running streak, and that is in the Massachusetts snow.

By the way, let's hear it for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts! Way to go, brothers and sisters.

Last year Pearl Felson died at the age of 87, and her son Leonard decided to honor her life and memory by writing a blog. It’s called A Year of Kaddish, What a Year of Daily Praying Triggers Within and Without. Leonard is an old Hayward friend of mine who is now an esteemed journalist living in Hartford, Connecticut. He is Jewish, and he says that according to Jewish custom, “a spouse is obligated to say Kaddish [prayers] daily for one month; when a parent dies, the children say it for eleven months.” So his blog is a sort of year-long prayer for Pearl. But, he adds, it isn’t about his mother directly; it is also about his spiritual quest and life appraisal following her loss.

 Here in supposedly sunny California, we are experiencing big rains and wild storms, including tornados. But I know this is paltry indeed compared to a typical winter up in the frozen tundra of northern Minnesota where Travis Roste lives. Travis, a frequent contributor to this space, tells me that it has been “cold as a well digger's bum here lately. Until just this week when it warmed up, the last couple weeks were 10 to 20 below at night. Brrrrrrrrr.” That’s enough to freeze your doppelganger, all right. 

The Wheels of Change Road trip chugs on: This Wednesday, I speak to the always friendly folks at the Kiwanis club in Benicia and on Saturday, Jan. 30, I hit the road again for a signing at Autobooks-Aerobooks bookstore in Burbank. 

Book Tour Takes Scandalous Turn: Author Visits Naked Beach!

Posted 1/15/10. Monday, January 4 was Take Your Sons to a Radio Station Day, a fictitious national holiday I made up to justify bringing Hank and Gabe with me to a radio interview at KPFA in Berkeley. Denny Smithson, the host, was as gracious to me on the air as he was to my sons off the air, letting them sit next to me in the studio during the interview. (Pictured is a KPFA producer in the control room.)

 This was actually the second radio interview on the Wheels of Change Tour in which I’ve brought my sons, the first being an NPR “California Report” gig I did in San Francisco in November. After that interview I treated the boys to lunch at Mel’s Diner on Van Ness and took them to see Baker Beach in the city. Baker Beach is just west of the Golden Gate Bridge with swell views of the bridge, the Marin Headlands, and the mighty Pacific. I had not been there in a long time and so, while the boys were chasing waves, flopping around in the sand and getting completely wet and filthy, I decided to take a quick walk to stretch my legs.

            I started walking toward the bridge past other children, families, and couples when I noticed something rather, well, unusual. Suddenly the only people on the beach were men. All without swimsuits, and all with their doppelgangers hanging free. Now, in my younger years, I did occasionally go to a naked beach, but the naked beaches I frequented all had women bathers on them as well as men. This was a strict requirement of mine. I immediately hit the brakes, and turned around.

            As I did two women, both fully clothed like myself, were coming down the beach behind me. “There seem to be a lot of guys in that direction,” I said. They said, “Yes, we know,” and made an abrupt right turn away from the water toward the parking lot. By the time I returned back down the beach to where the boys were, they were fighting and throwing sand at each other, and it was time to go home.

            Note to families and others: Baker Beach in San Francisco is a terrific spot, well worth a visit. But if you take a walk on the beach, you might want to head west, away from the bridge, rather than east. Fewer doppelgangers in that direction.

            On another note, Mel Atwell of Walnut, California recently dropped me a line, mentioning as an aside that his wife Millie had turned 83 and he was 87. Mel is a retired Pasadena fire fighter whose brother Dick played for the House of David barnstorming baseball team. During the Depression (and even later) the Israelite House of David in Michigan sponsored several barnstorming teams, and Dick (standing, far left) was one of their top performers.

The bearded Davids (though there were no religious requirements to play on the team, you did have to have a beard) traveled across America in the 1930s astounding fans with their trick-catching and throwing routines, sort of a white baseball version of the Harlem Globetrotters. I wrote about Dick and Mel, who also played a little ball in his younger days, in The Golden Game, and am now lucky enough to count Mel and Millie among my friends. (Dick has passed on.)

Mel and Millie report they have five children, 18 grandchildren, and 13 great-grandchildren. Now that is truly an astounding trick.

 Speaking of people I’ve written about who are friends, Washington D.C. FBI Agent Adam Lee sent along pictures of the car he is working on with his son that he wrote about in my last blog. You may look at these pictures and merely see the front and rear end of a rebuilt Dodge Charger, but they're more than that; they're lifelong memories, being created by a father and his son. And when they're finished, those memories will be able to go pretty fast too.

              

 Finally, on Tuesday, Jan. 19 at 6 p.m., I will be speaking about Wheels of Change and showing slides at the Mechanics Institute on 57 Post Street (between Market and Kearny) in San Francisco. Stop by and say hello; friends and family are free. I promise: Everyone will be wearing clothes.

 

 

Happy New Year! And a Peek Inside the Nelson Mailbag

Posted 12/31/09. One of the great things about having a website is that people write me letters, and some of these people are from the FBI. Fans of Operation Bullpen may recognize the name of Special Agent Adam Lee, who worked on the case in San Diego and helped bust forgers and counterfeit dealers around the country. Lee has since moved east where he is an Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the Intelligence Division in the Washington, D.C. field office. But although you can take the FBI agent out of California, you can't take California out of the FBI agent, as this letter from Adam shows:

Kevin: During a Thanksgiving call from my family in California yesterday, I learned that you have a new book out. When I saw what your most recent work was about, I had to reach out to you; first to congratulate you and to share a quick story about my life with automobiles. As a kid growing up in California—and the son of a 1950s Los Angeles amateur drag racer—I bought my first car, a 1955 Chevy 210 business coupe, at the age of 13. I sold a home built go-kart and bicycle to pay for it. My father and I built the car together and had it ready for my 16th birthday. I drove the Chevy to high school everyday. Building that car with my dad and driving it as a teenager are the fondest memories of my youth. Eventually, I sold it to help pay law school expenses and have missed it ever since.

My love for cars seems to be programmed in my DNA. My son, who is eight, is already a classic car nut. Last year, we bought an old Dodge Charger together and I am teaching him how things work on it. This past summer, we put a fresh 440 in the car and he is always thrilled to hear it roar to life. My boy and I are very close and I am pretty sure he is collecting his own memories in our garage to enjoy later in life.

I am in Washington, D.C., now, as you know. I am living proof, however, that you can take the kid out of California, but you can't take the California out of the kid. Once again, congratulations. I enjoy your work very much and appreciate the subjects about which you write. Thank you once again, too, for your meticulous attention to detail covering Operation Bullpen. Take care, Adam

     I am, in fact, a big fan of the entire Lee family. When she was ordering some books from me, Adam's mother Patricia asked for some Wheels of Change flyers so she could include them in her Christmas card mailings. Sweet!

     Now, let me briefly share two more pieces of correspondence I recently received. One is from another Operation Bullpen reader who wanted me to sign a copy of his book. He sent it to me in the mail, and I was truly impressed. I have never seen a more well-read book in all my life, as this picture somewhat shows:

     I signed this book, and sent a new, fresh copy to him just in case the old one fell apart.

     Lastly, back to cars. Both my sons had a wonderful first grade teacher, Mike Mullikin, who gave Wheels of Change to his brother Tim, a self-described "huge car enthusiast." As proof of this, Tim sent me a picture of what is sitting in his driveway:

     Says Tim: "From left, the cars are: a red 1962 Ferrari replica, a 1998 Corvette (first year C5 convertible), and a 1973 Corvette Convertible. I am currently adding a 1966 Ranchero and a 1972 Mustang to the stable. Can never have too many wheels." Indeed. You can never have too many wheels, or bottles of champagne in the frig. Pop! Happy New Year, and let’s all have an auspicious 2010.

     P.S. Shameless plug: For folks in the Bay Area, I will appear on Denny Smithson’s talk show on KPFA on Monday, Jan. 4 at 3 p.m. For details about this and other Wheels appearances in January, see the News and Events box on the home page.

Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! 'God Bless Us All, Every One!'

"He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!"Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

How Elmer Botts Saved My Life, and Other True Tales of the Road

Posted 12-8-09. Elmer Botts saved my life on Sunday—or more precisely, Elmer Botts's invention saved my life. Who was Elmer Botts, and what was his invention? And how can an author who cannot talk give a book talk? For the answer to these questions and more, please read on:

     Thursday I spoke at the South Pasadena Public Library, in the city of South Pasadena, as part of a special presentation that began with the rock and country stylings of Cottage Industry, an acoustic four-piece band. Cottage Industry played a swinging half-hour set of car and driving songs that included "Route 66," "Take It Easy," "King of the Road," "Baby, You Can Drive My Car," "Pink Cadillac," and on my request, a rockabilly version of "Li'l Deuce Coupe." It was good clean fun. After the band finished, Steve Fjeldsted, the incredibly thoughtful and diligent librarian who organized all this, showed a clip from "Bullitt"—you know the one, where Steve McQueen in a green Shelby Mustang races after a Dodge Challenger over the hills of San Francisco in the greatest movie chase scene ever filmed. Afterward I did my thing for about an hour, talking cars to an audience of about 40 people, and when I was done I could barely talk.

     This was not, unfortunately, all that uncommon for me. At several of my talks in the past weeks my voice has gone hoarse by the end, although Thursday was the worst by far. By Friday morning, I could not speak above a whisper. With another speaking gig looming that night in Riverside, I sucked on throat lozenges, gargled with warm salt water, drank warm water with honey, tried Chloraseptic (apparently this is not always a good idea for those with laryngitis), ate oranges for the Vitamin C, and tried not to talk. (I have since learned, from my daughter, that a drink called "Throat Coat Tea" might have helped me.) But nothing much worked, and when I showed up at the Glen Avon Library in Riverside I sounded a little like Vito Corleone in "The Godfather," only not nearly as good.

     Luckily, Tracie Carignan, the librarian for the Glen Avon Library, and Kathryn Morton, the cultural events coordinator for the Riverside public library system, were there to reassure me. They, too, did a splendid job of organizing and promoting the event, and about a half dozen cool cats who lived in the area drove their custom cars and parked them outside the library before my talk, such as the smoking hot beast pictured here.

     We had another nice gathering of about 40 people—all of whom listened graciously to the speaker who made brilliant, incisive points while sounding disturbingly like a frog. I made it through, however, although I had no idea how I was going to handle my next set of appearances the next morning.

     At 8 a.m. Saturday, I was supposed to be at the Petersen Automotive Museum in Los Angeles to chat for a half hour with Josh Hancock, host of the Josh Car Radio Show. Then, at 9:45 a.m., I was scheduled to do a phone interview with Art Gould of The Car Show radio program, after which I was to do a signing at Autobooks-Aerobooks, a Burbank bookstore that is famous among car and plane fanciers for its vast treasury of auto and air books. Wanting to be close to the Petersen so I could get there quickly in the morning, I drove from Riverside and checked into the Motel Six in beautiful downtown Hollywood.

     Who knew that the Hollywood Motel Six was a major party hotel? Many twenty-somethings were there, roaming the halls, and they all seemed to be having a much better time than me. The loudest group occupied the room next to mine, and after efforts to get them to quiet down proved fruitless, I moved up to the fifth floor into a different room and became ill.      

     Well, actually, I knew I was sick as soon as I checked into the motel. Not sick as in the H1N1 virus or anything like that, but clearly, not good. I did not realize it at the time, but my sore throat was apparently an early warning sign that something was amiss. I took some Nyquil in the hopes of a magic turnaround the next morning. No such luck. When I woke up my nasal passageways felt like someone had packed them with Elmer's Glue, and I still could not talk. Being without a voice on the radio is generally not considered good form, so I made some quick calls to cancel my appearances, tossed all my gear into my car, and lit out for home.

     That was when Elmer Botts saved my life.

     It was on Interstate 5 in Kern County in the great San Joaquin Valley. I had left Hollywood about 8 in the morning, stopped for a muffin and some hot tea to get me going, picked up the 101, then switched over to the I-5 heading north. I passed through the San Fernando Valley and Santa Clarita, crossed over the Grapevine and then down it, and I was rocketing along the interstate at about 75 miles per hour when my eyes closed.

     I remember the moment precisely: the lids of my eyes fell shut. I was sick, I was tired and groggy, and I was probably suffering from a Nyquil hangover as well. When my eyes closed my car drifted from the right lane toward the center of the road where suddenly, gratefully, it hit some Botts Dots.

     Botts Dots, as they are called, are those hard, plastic bumps placed in the middle and along the sides of roads and highways. They're ubiquitous in California. I know about Botts Dots because I wrote about their originator, Elmer Botts, in Wheels of Change—on page 324, in a footnote. (A footnote!) In the 1950s Botts, a chemist with the California Department of Transportation, developed what he thought would be a pavement marker to help drivers see the lane stripes better at night and in bad weather. But when these raised and brightly painted markers were placed on the road, something unexpected happened: drivers ran over them and the jolt made them more alert behind the wheel. Botts Dots have since become a staple of transportation safety around the country and world, jolting sleepy-eyed drivers awake. 

     This is what happened to me: my tires rolled over the Botts dots and my eyes opened. I was falling asleep behind the wheel. Quickly I pulled off at the Harris Ranch exit, found a quiet parking lot behind a gas station, and took a nap in my car. Revived and feeling alert again, I drove safely the rest of the way home, where the loving arms of my wife and two sons greeted me. Thank you, Elmer.

     Next stop on the Wheels of Change road trip: Sunday signing, 1 to 2 p.m., California Automotive Museum (formerly the Towe Auto Museum), 2200 Front Street, Sacramento, 916-442-6802. It promises to be a capital event!

Talking Cars on NPR's California Report

Posted 11/29/09. Friday I appeared on The California Report on National Public Radio, chatting with Rachael Myrow about the passions of young people for cars, California car trends, hot rods, the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake, the first woman to drive across the United States, and other automobile-related matters. Click here and you can take a listen. It's a fast six minute segment.

Happy Thanksgiving! And Notes About NPR, Forgery, Car Songs, and Mary Pickford

Posted 11-23-09. First and last thought: Happy Thanksgiving to one and all! More thoughts about cars, people, forgery, and other subjects:

Tomorrow I am going to San Francisco to be interviewed on The California Report on National Public Radio. It's a taped interview, so it will air in the Bay Area on Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, on KQED-FM 88.5 FM at 4:30 p.m./6:30 p.m./11 p.m. It airs on different channels and times around central and northern California. Consult the listings for your area here.

Last week I did an interview with Jeff Figler of the Sports Byline Radio Network, which broadcasts to 700 stations and 178 countries around the world through the Armed Forces Network. This was about Operation Bullpen, my book on forgery which continues to draw attention. (To the right is one of the gang's forgeries; all four sigs of John, Paul, George and Ringo are bogus.) I think the interview aired last Friday but I'm not quite sure. As soon as I find out I'll update this post.

I'm looking forward to my next round of book talks in southern California. Wherever I've gone, everyone has been very generous and welcoming, but I've got to give a special shout-out to Steve Fjeldsted, director of the South Pasadena Library where I will speak Dec. 3. Before my talk, Cottage Industry, a rock band, will play car and road songs for a half hour. Steve asked me for my favorites in this genre, so I chose three from the Beach Boys: "Fun, Fun, Fun," "Li'l Deuce Coupe," and "409." After the band's set, Steve will show a movie clip from "Bullitt," the famous chase scene with Steve McQueen burning rubber in a Mustang over the hills of San Francisco. Then comes my slide show and talk. For details on this show and my two other appearances next week in Riverside and Burbank, see the box to the left.

When you write a book, it's a little like hibernating in a cave. In the case of Wheels of Change, I hibernated for close to three years, mainly writing and reading and researching inside the walls of my office with occasional forays out into the world to see historic car spots, visit car shows, and drive the roads of the state. So it's especially nice to get out of my cave and see and talk to people. At the Pasadena Museum of History last week, I signed a book for a fellow who lived in the house in Pasadena where Walter Murphy had lived. Murphy was one of the great automobile coach builders of the 1920s, designing, among many other cars, the luxurious Doble Series E, one of the most beautiful steam automobiles ever made. I wrote about Murphy in Wheels of Change, and it was a thrill for me to meet someone with that close of a connection to him.

The next night, at the monthly meeting of the Mustang Owners Club of California Club at Du-Par's Restaurant in Granada Hills, a movie camera operator, now retired, introduced himself. He had worked on "The Godfather," explaining how he helped shoot the scene in which Sonny (James Caan) gets murdered, riddled by bullets in his car at the toll booth. A number of vintage cars are used in that scene, and one of them nearly ran over the operator (whose name, unfortunately, slipped past me) as it made its getaway.

At the San Diego Automotive Museum on Saturday, I spoke in the main showroom surrounded on all sides by gleaming old machines that once roamed the roads. Among the friendly faces I met there: Kenn Colclasure and Dee House of the museum, and Bernadine Bogdanovs, event coordinator for the Wheels on Reels film festival, which is devoted to the ongoing love affair between movies and cars. The films were shown at the Mary Pickford Theatre in Cathedral City next to Palm Springs. Mary Pickford and her husband Douglas Fairbanks both loved cars (especially Doug), and here is a picture of Mary with her Pierce Arrow, one of their many deluxe rides. Riding in back, Mary spoke to her chauffeur through a speaking tube that ran from the back seat to the front.

If It's Tuesday, It Must Be Pasadena...Wednesday Granada Hills...Thursday San Diego

The Wheels of Change road trip heads to southern California this week, making stops in three places rich with automotive history: Pasadena, San Fernando Valley, and San Diego. Here are the details on where I'll be appearing, as well as some tidbits on how each place figures into California car culture and the history of cars:

Pasadena

On Tuesday, Nov. 17, at 7:30 p.m at the Pasadena Museum of History (470 W. Walnut Street, 626-577-1660), I will probably chat a little about how—

  • Those two desperadoes you see pictured here, L.L. Whitman and Eugene Hammond, became the third set of drivers to drive across the United States in an automobile, going from San Francisco to New York in 72 days, 21 hours and 30 minutes. Hailing from Pasadena, Whitman became the very model of a hard-driving man, setting speed records for his transcontinental trips across America as well as north-south sprints from Los Angeles to San Francisco.
  • Pasadena looms large in the history of automotive design. Walter Murphy Coach Works of Pasadena designed the coaches for some of the most beautiful cars in the world in the 1920s, including Abner Doble's luxury steam masterpiece, the Doble Series E. Two of Murphy's former employees, Christian Bohman and Maurice Schwartz, formed a Pasadena coach-building firm that designed the spectacular Duesenberg JN used by Clark Gable to squire Carol Lombard around Hollywood. Pasadena to this day maintains a high-level design profile, as many of the graduates of The Art Center College of Design are carrying on the Walter Murphy-Bohman & Schwartz automotive design tradition.
  • The world's first hot rodder may have been Waldeman Grant Hansen of Throop Polytechnic Institute, now Caltech, in Pasadena. The brilliant young Hansen built the first gas engine car ever seen at Caltech, racing it around the streets in what later became the Pasadena-Altadena Hill Climb, one of the wildest road races of the early 1900s. At one point in the race the cars sped over some railroad tracks and all four wheels lifted into the air.

Granada Hills

It will be a pleasure to stop by to see the Mustang Owners of California (Du-par’s Restaurant, 17921 Chatsworth St., Granada Hills, Wed., Nov. 18., 6:30 p.m.) because Granada Hills is in the San Fernando Valley, and in the late 1940s and 1950s (and other times as well, no doubt), the San Fernando Valley was automobile heaven. Here is one of the all-time great hot rod and sports car guys, Dean Batchelor, late of Burbank, remembering this time in the valley: