San Clemente - Wow!

Yesterday I felt pooped. I had stayed at the rest stop, five miles outside of Oceanside. In no way would I pay $89 for a Motel Six room-My budget would not allow it. I had two options: I could go to Santa Nita on the Gold Line out of Union Station or do some library work downtown. 
   The only time I have entered San Clemente was when my car needed gas, or there was stop-and-gold traffic on the 5 freeway. But this last weekend, I decided to make it my home town. Its view inspired me.  
    North County had a golf tournament, and track events inside Carlsbad. Motels had become expensive since families and other retired people make it their home. The middle class had eroded. 
So left the rest stop both weekend days and paid for the $10 all day fare. 
    My car remained in the free commuter parking lot. Henry checked us for our ticket before we climbed aboard the 624 Metro-Link. It left platform number 2 at eight thirty. Earlier, like always, the ticket machines had acted up. The one that worked needed some prodding to take plastic cards. A Japanese college student had trouble making the plastic turn to a ticket earlier.  
    "Do it quick. Try again..." 
  Like a horse being saddled for the first time, The machine did not accept the card-that is at first. So I made a suggestion to the college girl.
    "Do it fast but with gentile hands." Her plastic card worked now. She retrieved the card and sat to wait with her ticket in hand. 
     Inside car number one, I took a front disabled seat and unfolded my legs. I took a quick nap and produced my book about Auschwitz. In a few minutes the conductor-who was only one aboard- sent the Los Angeles Union Station on its way. 
    The ocean and waves and waves of marshy land came into view. To the East Marines were on maneuvers. Tanks and trucks were everywhere. I felt sick-to-my-stomach that so many have suffered tragically from the endless Middle Eastern wars.   
    After San Onofre, San Clemente came into view. Rather the long steep bluffs caught my attention. You see the City of San Clemente appears like an amphitheater, with every seat with an ocean view. As the number 23 chugged along, crevices and various rainbow colors made up this sea wall. 
   Yet it was the color of the bluffs and now the sun and ocean gave a different color to each bluff as the train crested its way to the San Clemente Pier. Yellows, rust-colored-reds gave a hue to this wonderful city. Why in the back of my mind I thought how great it would be to live there-knowing that an ocean views could be had from anywhere in this Presidential Beach City. Of course nobody boarded since they lived in their vacation homes and also could afford the triple priced Amtrak. 
   A large number of families descended as the train made hay to the Petting Zoo inside San Juan Capistrano. The train stopped a few yards from the petting zoo. A Llama stuck its head through the window to sample some of the creamy peanut butter that I was licking. 
   I smiled after this stop.. I felt relieved that I had taken a long bath on Friday. On black Friday, I bumped-up my Compass card for another thirty days, and on the way to the Green Line stopped at the Internal Revenue. Now I hadn't paid for over seven years and wished to begin. Their war room is off of Front and D Street which was turned into a bridge. (More about that later.) 
 With your permission, I am going to speak about the  Gold Line Trolley to Pasadena on that Saturday and skip Tustin, Orange, Santa Ana and other stops. The Metro is a tunnel from the Gold Line trains. The stops are China Town, Heritage Village, Highland Park...and ends in Sierra Madre. Several passengers left and took a Clairemont train to Santa Nita. 
   For me, seeing Old Town Los Angeles reminded me of San Diego's. Mainly one hundred or older wooden homes lines the train's trail. Hills, yes miles and miles of hills gave way to the majestic San Gabriel Mountains. Too bad these golden relics gave way to the mansions of Hancock Park and Beverly Hills. 
   Sunday on the Metro-Link for ten dollars all day. I saw the same sights of San Clemente with one exception. I rode the train back-and-forth as my mind needed to recoup from two sleepless nights at the Rest Stop. 
    This time I faced the ocean and the sun-worshipers. This time, with the sun above, I saw how far the sets of waves reached. They seemed to be one mile out as their sets of large seven-footers curled slowly towards the small beaches. One surfer caught a wave that took him the mile towards shore where a Frisbee hit him right-in-the-noggin. 
   Every color in the rainbow bounced off of the ocean as one set of waves cascaded towards shore Volleyball games were played everywhere. 
   Now I knew-for sure-where I wished to ground myself: In lovely San Clemente where the curling surf cuddles the mind to to sleep. 

  Nuts and Bolts for today: A good friend is one who does not need to ask if "you need any help." He does it without asking.