First Reader and I spent the last couple of weeks on the road. We traveled to Central California to attend my 😳 50th high school reunion. Because I prefer to drive across our beautiful country, we packed the car, picked up a friend (and former classmate) on the way out of Colorado, and hit the rowdy road.

We aren’t the ‘Road Warriors’ we used to be. Fourteen-hour driving days are out of the question now that ‘Uncle Arthr’ and ‘Aunt Itis’ have moved into the joints. We limited our time sitting in the car to half that, with frequent breaks, allowing plenty of time to stop, unfold ourselves, and walk the stiffness out. So, we plugged in an audiobook and tootled across the Western United States, all while virtually escaping to the Mediterranean region.

Originally, we’d planned to pull our camper-trailer and stay in it along the way, but the weather foiled our plans. Not knowing what the days ahead would bring regarding wind, snow, and possible winter driving conditions, we made a last-minute decision to take the car instead. Lodging wouldn’t be a problem as we had already arranged our nights on the road. And we had a former classmate and friend offer space in her house when our camping plan fell apart (thank you, SC).

As usual, our westbound journey, plagued by the ever-present wind, tried its best to blow us back the way we came as the back side of the weather front pushed the storm eastward. Views of the snow-capped mountains across Utah and Nevada kept us entranced as we drove steadily west. Of course, that’s the land of UFOs and Area 51. No trek across Nevada would be complete without a visit to one of the many alien-themed souvenir shops along the way.

On the last day, snowy peaks forced us to take the least desirable route into the San Joaquin Valley—south through Tehachapi, California. It wasn’t any slower than the mountain passes, though it was the longer and more traffic-filled route. The road is much improved from the last time I drove that stretch.

We landed at our destination after four days on the road.

The next day was a flurry of activity as we helped prepare for the weekend. The reunion committee had corralled a group of volunteers to make the appetizer boxes for the dinner on Saturday evening. We jumped in, rolling meat, cutting blocks of cheese into bite sizes, and portioning out the fruit and pickled vegetables. In the end, we assembled one hundred individual charcuterie boxes.

That evening, many of our class gathered at the old pizza hangout for a meet and greet. Some of us recognized each other right away. With others, I knew their faces, but their names eluded me, so there was a lot of “how are you?”, followed by “who are you?”. No one took offense.

We got a tour of the old high school and all its fresh additions. The school security officer and student members of the leadership council took time out of their Saturday morning to show us around. Since I attended the school, it’s added many new programs focused on agriculture and the trades. In fact, Atwater High School is home to Atwater FFA, one of the premier high school agriculture programs in the country, according to our guides.

In the decades since my graduation, my high school alma mater has won many awards. Besides farming and skilled trades, the school hosts a top-notch music program that performed at the Youth and Music in Vienna Festival in Austria. My graduating class band had the privilege of attending, as did many others after ours.

Dinner held the biggest surprise for me. People I’d had passing acquaintances with greeted us warmly. They welcomed my wife with open arms (I think she had as much fun as I did). Our travel companion had some trepidation about the trip, but in the end, was happy with the outcome of her journey.

By this time, we’ve had four social events. Even for the most extroverted person, that’s a lot of socializing packed into 30 hours. For those of us whose social meter needs a regular recharge, it was intense. But very informative. Most of us didn’t follow the expected paths. A lot of us went into the military, which is a little surprising when you consider the Vietnam War ended barely six weeks before we graduated. We grew up watching the protests and how some Americans treated returning Vietnam veterans. A few classmates spread far and wide, while many stayed local(ish). My state was well-represented—four of us live here. And a few of us took up writing as a career with published novels, memoirs, and poetry collections. (I need to catch up and publish my novel. 😉)

The last event happened on Sunday. Those who still had social stamina spent a relaxed afternoon at the park-like residence of one organizer. Classmates cooked more food than we could eat to supplement leftovers from Saturday’s dinner. One of the best sides was the homemade roasted green chili salsa (thanks, CB. I scored a bottle to bring home; it’s going fast).

After a whirlwind weekend, we packed the car and (almost) reversed our path. The five days between our arrival and departure were enough time for the high mountain passes to reopen. Our return trip included a drive through scenic Yosemite National Park and over Tioga Pass—much nicer vistas (if you’re a fan of the mountain views). And the further east we drove, the less snow we saw on the peaks.

The ride home also brought a conclusion to the audiobook as we beat a mountain storm over Vail Pass. We watched our various weather apps closely to get an idea of when the rain and snow would begin (hours after we expected to arrive). A check of the news when we got home proved we had 20/20 foresight for a change. Leaving the camper at home was a good call when considering the unpredictability of Mother Nature.

Time to settle in, and get ready for Winter 2025/26. Oh, and these two were so happy to see us, they haven’t left our sides.

UPDATE: A former classmate wrote the following article for the local newspaper.

AHS Class of 1975 gathers for a 50th reunion weekend
Old memories and new ones to remember
By Robin Shepard, Oct 26, 2025