Big Sur was a special place in my upbringing, but so was it in my life, at all stages. So I take my ex-wife’s family (first wife… we’re fine, not sure what’s wrong with her she still adores me) down for a weekend, and we take the best road ever, “Coast Road” off the Bixby Bridge (I shouldn’t have reviewed it, it might even be closed to non-residents now “informally”, except they can’t restrict trail access or access to the abandoned boy scout camp), for a nice family photo for the Blue Mountain Pennsylvania folk. This is probably 2003. We aren’t more than a 1/2 mile off Hwy 1, but it’s a graded road that’s not paved and actually impassable for some months of the year, but that’s Big Sur. What’s more, it’s Bixby Bridge to Andrew Molera Beach, HWY 1 is about 12 minutes to the horse stables from the bridge. Coast Road from the Bixby Bridge to Andrew Molera covers like 2000′ elevation gain in 10 miles, up and down and all that. It can take 1-3hrs depending on where you are and stops. It’s heaven on earth. Like Palo Colorado Canyon a bit further north, these are actually homesteading family lots from back in the 1890s, off gridder geodome self-sustaining escapees from the 70s and 80s, but a few places on that road are just the type of mansions that are the special types, like the one that appear in a movie and are the actual star of the damned film. One specific mansion is built of all glass, and I’ve been obsessed with it for decades. It is the movie mansion where the two opposing spies working together need to take a break to figure out what’s next, then end up making love on top of the world before they go back to trying to steal the codes and data from one another.
Anyhoo, there’s this guy that rolls up next to us in a very ordinary late 90s volvo, and gets out in a really bad Hawaiian shirt, orange-ish jams, flip-flops, and a leathery face covered by an absolutely absurdly large Palm Leaf Straw Charro’style Mexican Sun Hat. Just absurd. It barely fit in his car. He pulled up next to us, got out, and approached an industrial style gate that was simply padlocked and obviously led to what we shall call the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen (only about $5 Million, and literally not listed anywhere online. There’s a white whale house near me that I am obsessed with, but we’re veering off course. Anyhoo, it’s a $4 Million 2-subterranean-bedroom bizarre compound of a 60s evil villain lair house that makes no sense).
At this point, Volvo-jams gent has not only unlocked it, but opened it, where I notice it obviously leads up to my obsession of a glass house… He’s quickly walked back to the car, driven it in, and closed the gate to lock it again, in a fluid, friendly, and efficient way that showed intent and business. We’d milled around but exchanged non-verbal pleasantries, and he was nice enough, as we were basically tourists in his driveway. Nods all around.
He catches our attention for one final “good day!”, and I do my normal “I grew up watching KQED and all those damned British comedy shows” and said “Cheers, good day!” in my best 27 year old chipper voice.
The man said, surprising to me, in a British accent, “It truly is, isn’t it.” [looking out at the archaic architecture of the 100 year old bridge dominating the near-view of the pacific ocean crashing on the ancient rocks].
“Glorious”, he added, looking up from locking the gate back up.
I said, in front of my ex, MIL, BIL and his young girlfriend, “It is, but it would be quite a bit better if we were on that side of the gate”.
He looked me dead in the eye with a feigned-churlish but sharp smile, with an obvious glean in his eye, and said with a sharp but cheerful and posh tone: “Oh no… I am afraid this side is for the very, very rich”.
Jaws dropped. Moments stood still. Time also passed.
Til this day I can’t read him, but I buffer the earnestness of his comment by thinking he was simply tending the house in his silly at-home Carmel work outfit and had an air of charm in the absurdity of getting caught in the moment, and in this world… was being sarcastic, cosplaying as an affable owner.
But deep down, I think I know it was the owner who simply said his self-aware truth. We’ll never know, but my ex’s family laughed at me for some time. The ride back was bearable, but the rest of the marriage wasn’t, so things end, just as with this story.
“Cheers!”