The first leg of our journey to Monterey ended around Pismo Beach – we needed to stop for some local breakfast. It was about 9am and Paul broke out the bottle of Blue Moon and poured us a round to toast the trip. We parked just outside a seedy bar that was closed, well, so we thought. Just then the door opened and out poured a tattered old man that looked like he hadn’t seen the inside of a shower since our bottle of wine was squeezed from grapes. Of course Paul couldn’t help but strike up conversation – turns out our new urine soaked friend owned a 914 in is better days. We walked away hoping the irony of the chance meeting wasn’t a sign of days to come.