What? Me Commute? Commuting from Crestline was the last straw that forced me to become self-employed. Four years ago before I moved here, I was commuting from Temecula to my job as marketing director for an advertising agency in Riverside. The southern approach to Riverside was difficult in the morning and impossible in the afternoon. I had to move. We didn’t want to raise our kids in Riverside, so we looked elsewhere. With luck, we discovered Crestline and moved here. Very soon, however, I found that the northern approach to Riverside was equally frustrating. I was spending far too much time on the road each day. When I first moved in, my next-door neighbor—a grumpy, old fellow writer—said, “I hope you know the ropes.” Since I had lived in Germany for seven years and was accustomed to three-foot snows, I guess I did “know the ropes.” Also, my wife and I both had four-wheel-drive vehicles, so we were ready. But we were not prepared for “the glacier,” which is the affectionate nickname for our neighborhood. You see, we don’t get much sunlight up here on the north-facing slope, and the snow stays in our neighborhood long after it has melted in the rest of the town. It’s not what the real estate agents would call a “commuter property.” Once we had 36 inches of snow in 48 hours. Some guy was coming up our road in his pickup after about a foot of snow had fallen from that storm. He got stuck. Obviously, he didn’t “know the ropes.” as he abandoned the truck and walked home in his shorts and tank top. We were stranded and the snowplows weren’t going to come for days. When the snow stopped, I strapped on my snowshoes and trudged down to Goodwin’s for a few days of provisions. I parked my snowshoes on the inside at the front of the store. Another pair of snowshoes was there. They were owned by a small, older woman who told me she had walked to Goodwin’s from Twin Peaks. I got a new job after that. I thought if I got a job for which I only had to commute two days a week, I’d be happy. The trouble was, this job was in Escondido, 96 miles away. That was OK for about a month. When I became freelance editor of a pair of healthcare publications in Lake Arrowhead, I kept my boss in Escondido as a client and quit commuting. I finally had learned the ropes. It’s simple—don’t go anywhere. Stay home and take advantage of 21st century technology. Unfortunately, the 21st century technology usually requires electricity, and often in bad weather, those of us up here who don’t “know the ropes” tend to smash into power poles at the first sign of snow. When the power went off down the hill, it was instantly rerouted to another substation. The power usually went off for about five seconds. When the power goes off in Crestline, it usually stays off for at least five hours, and we crank up the fireplace and the gas stove. I have a neighbor who has commuting down to a science. He gets up at 3:30 a.m., jumps in his Jeep and drives down the hill to the San Bernardino train station. From there, he takes the train to his job in downtown Los Angeles. He’s always back home by 5:00 p.m. No thanks. Not for me. I’m glad I made the decision to become self-employed. Uncle Sam kills you with taxes, and there are big ups and downs, but I don’t have to dodge tire-eating rocks in the fog like I once did. My commutes consist of taking my daughter to Lake Gregory and back, and driving to the post office and store. Life is better when you “know the ropes.”
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