Didn’t ride very far at all the next day. I can’t remember how long it took but maybe not even an hour from San Luis Obispo to Pismo Beach? At this point we were just making our way s l o w l y back to LA. In hindsight we spent too long coming down the coast… in my opinion. Anyway we got to Pismo, checked out the beach where we’d heard you could take bikes and cars or whatever, and then set up at the campground. Malcolm and I went back to go for a hoon on the beach but Joe didn’t because it cost $5 each. Which, yes, is kinda bullshit just to go for a ride on a beach. But we had time to kill and fuck all to do, so a ride on the beach seemed a good idea.
Back at the campsite we drank some beers and went down to the beach for a bit. It was kinda pretty, but there was a cold wind. We got wood for the campfire from a couple that was set up near us. The guy, Deidrich, came over later on, bought some more wood, and had a couple of beers with us. He was a real interesting dude and we enjoyed talking with him about his life and experiences growing up in America. Turns out him and his family – and actually quite a few other people – were living in the campground there. He told us there had been a bunch of white supremacists living on the other side of the campground, and that he kept a loaded gun in his tent.
Pismo was strange. It had a weird vibe about it. I don’t know why? We almost got tattoos in Pismo but we couldn’t agree on anything.