Weekend Road Trip To A House Party In Victorville Near Historic Route 66
A friend messaged me to invite me up to a party at his house in Apple Valley (that’s code for Victorville) in California’s Mojave Desert.
Since it was a “tweener” weekend here in Hermosa Beach – between two big summertime party events, Smackfest and the AVP pro beach volleyball – I gladly accepted his invitation. The host, Cary, lives on a golf course so I put some beers on ice and threw the golf clubs in the car and made the 2 1/2-hour drive up and over the Cajon Pass to this dot of a town between Los Angeles and Las Vegas.
Being in a largely industrial area, Victorville is not exactly a polished gem of a place (neither is Hollywood, by the way) but I knew Cary has good tastes and figured his place would be pretty sweet.
Indeed it proved to be, with a deck backed right up to the golf course. I was ready to go out and hit some balls.
As it turns out, the only time I got on the golf course was riding Cary’s cart around it. And then it wasn’t even to see the course, for one of his friends told me just beyond our sight there was a lake.
A what!?
“Yeah, a lake. With a beach. People go water skiing.”
In the middle of the desert!? This I had to see and Cary – ever the happy host – offered me his golf cart, which has a Rolls Royce hood and grill, to ride over and take a look at it. Talk about traveling in style!
But before I left Cary made sure I was prepared for my journey.
“Got a beer?”
“Yep,” I replied.
“Need a koozie to keep it cold?”
“Nope, I brought one.” (This was not my first rodeo in fun golf cart adventures.)
So I took off and sure enough there was a lake with a beach, boats and I even saw a water skier.
“There’s a lot of water and lakes around here, and large recreation areas,” Cary’s friend said, adding to his earlier comment. Another friend, when I posted my whereabouts on Facebook, suggested (well insisted, really) that I go to the Route 66 Museum. What!?
Apparently, Victorville has a rich history with this historic highway.
I began to realize there was more to this place than meets the dusty eye.
By evening, several golf carts had pulled up to Cary’s back porch (this was really cool; it’s their equivalent of us in the Beach Cities arriving to parties on bicycles) and the party had swelled to about 40 people.
Included were some girls, tho no single ones. Left to let my mind wonder rather than focusing on flirting, I began to think about how the girls in the Southern California inland areas all seem to have three identical characteristics:
• They have extremely large, even oversized, breasts
• They all have a lot of tattoos, up and down the arms, on the legs and who knows where else
• They all have kids
On that last point, the kids are always girls. If the mother is in her mid-30s, then she has a daughter who is always 16 years old – ripe enough to make me go “hmmm” but too young, obviously, for me to carry the thought any further in my mind.
I recalled being in Lake Arrowhead last summer at a friend’s dock party and he had hired a gorgeous, dripping sexy girl as a bartender. She could not have been 22 years old. And she had a kid.
All I could surmise from this was that the people in these areas are a lot more sexually active than I ever was at good ‘ol West High in Knoxville, TN.
The party went all night and I mean all night. I turned in at about 1 and heard it until well into the morning. Cary reported he did not get to bed until 6:30.
So much for golf!
The funniest thing that happened at the party was when Cary’s friend who told me about all the water said his descendants came to the area from Kansas in a covered wagon. One day, with several old family members around, he asked why they had chosen to settle in Victorville.
“Because,” an elderly aunt said in a nonchalant manner, “that’s where the horse died.”
Unable to top anything that funny, that is where this column is now going to die.
Cheers!
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