On the third morning of our travels, we got up, wolfed down a couple of bagels, flushed out the camper, and hit the road. It was time to climb some mountains and steamroll our way through the fiery freeways of Southern California. Like an angry, stinky meteor, we were coming to Carson, one way or another.
Udo quickly picked up on our mood as we got going. He could tell that today was different. The fact it was 68 degrees and I was wearing shorts probably clued him in as well. He spent most of the trip watching the road ahead.
We all were.