Most people just sort of assume it will get cooler as you get closer to the mountains. Most people haven’t been to Redding in August. It’s a great place, but it’s hot as hell there. When I arrived on Friday afternoon, it was 100 degrees. It got even warmer on Saturday. This was the first two-night road trip I’ve taken in a while, and it was much more fun. I had plenty of time to see everything and even do a little reading.

Friday afternoon’s drive took me through Farifield (Chick-Fil-A) and then Williams and Willows (just to see what was there). I was beat by the time I arrived in Redding and I checked into the first Motel 6 off the highway, which was an expensive mistake. But I figured it would be a good weekend when “Keeping Up Appearances” just happened to start as I turned on the TV.

 

After a quick dinner, I went exploring in an old Safeway, marveled at the neon motels on old highway 99, visited California’s only ShopKo, and drove through what was left of downtown.

 

Heading down old 99 south of the city, I made a wrong turn from hell and ended up on some godforsaken winding road to nowhere. Being a guy, I didn’t ask directions. Not that there was anyone or anyplace to ask anyway. After a while I got out of what I later learned was something called “Churn Creek Bottom” and headed back for the Motel 6. On the way, I passed not one, but two sobriety checkpoints which convinced me I was way too tired to go out that night, so I read my book and went to sleep.

 

I woke up early Saturday and did more exploring after moving from the expensive Motel 6 to the cheap Americana Lodge downtown. It’s a nice enough place, even though that the air conditioner smelled funny, the TV was in the closet, and one of my night tables was a dorm-size refrigerator.

My new digs only set me back thirty bucks and provided the twin benefits of being a block from the queer bar and next door to a skateboard shop. This would, I figured, allow me to get sexually frustrated in the afternoon and to pick up a willing outlet for it that night. Redding is full of scruffy, adorable, lost-looking boys. I like that in a town.

 

I covered a lot of ground Saturday, from Red Bluff to Anderson, from Shasta to Shasta Lake City to Shasta Dam, and from one end of Redding to every other end.

 

After driving around a lot, I decided to walk some, and I visited the creepy Redding Mall. This was one weird place. Essentially, the city put a roof over about three blocks of Main Street downtown, a misguided act which other small towns (Rock Hill SC) also committed in the 1970s. If “saving” downtown was the goal, it didn’t work. The mall was almost empty save for a half-stocked Rite-Aid (which hadn’t even bothered to take down its old Payless Drugstore signs inside) and a collectibles store.

 

I had dinner at a place called Buz’s Crab, which might be my favorite restaurant north of Sacramento now. It’s a cheap place specializing in (surprise) seafood. Loved it. Reminded me of Libby Hill in North Carolina, which is a good memory to have.

 

I tried to take a nap. I didn’t succeed and I watched The Seven-Year Itch instead. Hit the Club 501 on Center Street at about 11:00. There were about 10 people there, which I guessed was about half the queer population of Redding. The bartender, who was nice and bought me beers, told me the sparse turnout stemmed from the fact that every Sodomite in town had been at the pride festival in Chico all day.

It was a nice bar, tiny and (legally) smoke-filled. There was a juke box with the requisite sucky faggot disco which I often forget is so common outside the city. The crowd was friendly and some of it was even attractive. The bartender told me that the building housing the bar had originally been Redding’s first hotel, and later its first brothel.

Getting laid seemed less and less worth the effort by 1:00, so I went home and slept. I stand by my decision.

 

I checked out of the motel by 10:00 on Sunday, checking carefully for lice, and grabbed a quick breakfast before heading south toward Chico. When I left I-5 at Red Bluff, I left freeways behind for most of the day.

 

Chico was less exciting than I wanted it to be. I expected there to be cute college boys (like the one from the Doggie Diner) everywhere, especially since classes were starting Monday. There weren’t many, so I drove to Paradise, which proved less idyllic than I’d imagined. It wasn’t a bad place, just not a terribly exciting one. Ditto for Oroville. I wanted to look around Marysville and Yuba City some more, but it was getting late. I’d been there before anyway.

 

For some stupid reason, I decided to take I-80 home rather than my usual Sacramento-SF route through the Delta. I realized it was a mistake as I found myself doing about 15MPH through Vacaville. I finally got off in Fairfield and just drove through town. Things got better south of Vallejo and it was alarmingly traffic-free through Berkeley and Emeryville, until I hit the Bay Bridge. But by that time, I was so glad to be enshrouded in fog that I didn’t even care.

 

Random thoughts on Redding:

• It’s a very white place and people sound like they’re from Minnesota. Fortunately, it’s more white trash than white yuppie.
• I love the fact that there’s only one Starbucks downtown and it looks a little seedy, housed as it is in a former Long John Silver’s.
• “Fast food” is an oxymoron here.
• Redding and the surrounding area should be sort of a resort destination, but there didn’t seem to be any tourists anywhere, even at Shasta Dam (which was basically deserted).
• Housing is just as cheap as you imagine it would be.
• It sure is nice to see some trees scattered about, not to mention a landscape which isn’t quite so brown. Oops, I meant “golden”…

I wouldn’t want to live there, but I’ll probably go back to visit. It probably won’t be August when I do so.