Our goal was to go wine (ing) on the Pacific Coast Highway: wine tasting through the California Winery Region, however no wine for us. Let me explain because I'm sure you were expecting a lovely article about the California Wine Trail and picturesque ocean scenes; so were we. It didn't happen.

When I was a girl, my dad always tried to teach me about cars.  He pointed to what this thing was and he explained how it worked.   And I remember none of what he tried to teach me.  I remember looking at his tan, scarred hands, that grime under the nails that would never come out.  I can close my eyes and smell the mix of diesel fuel and cigarette smoke. That was the smell of my dad after a long honest day's work in the shop.  The literal blue collar with his name stitched across his chest.