The Vineland

City of Industry, California

 This town is aptly named, one of the most commercial/industrial settings I've seen, and I grew up in New Jersey. The Vineland, named for the main thoroughfare where it's sited, has been around since 1955. It has changed over the years to now include four screens with capacity for 1,500 cars.

City of Industry, California

There's also a daily swap meet, which manager Juan Gonzales explained is an economic necessity. Theater revenue alone couldn't support this large piece of commercial real estate. Projectors and platter systems for all four screens are tightly packed into the top floor of a central building. Juan plans a small museum on the grounds for youngsters to learn how drive-ins used to be run, with window speakers and poles (now replaced by short-range FM broadcast) and traditional twenty-minute film reels (still used for distribution to the theaters, but soon to be replaced by portable hard drives) and other paraphernalia.

City of Industry, California

Van Buren, Rubidoux

Riverside, California

A couple of drive-in theater screen towers with real pizazz, and palm trees.

Riverside, California

The South Drive-in Theater

Imperial Beach, California

Yesterday morning I left the Imperial Valley (89° at 7:30 in the morning) headed for Imperial Beach, near San Diego, a very different place. At 10:30 it was just 66° and under an overcast so heavy it seemed more like ocean fog. The theater's name probably has something to do with its location one mile from the Mexico border. Several days a week, including Wednesday, there's an enormous swap meet on the theater grounds. Over 300 vendors/booths. This is one of the survival mechanisms that many drive-ins have adopted to cope with the need to expand the use of expensive commercial land to create a viable cash flow. But what a successful plan! The place was packed, the parking lot full to overflowing. I was glad I had advance contact with the manager of the DeAnza theater chain who had cleared the way over the phone for me to get into the place. The theater's manager then let me have access to the concession roof for a shooting position. But what I really loved was spending over an hour wandering around the wonderful carnival atmosphere of the swap meet with a couple of small cameras.

Imperial Beach, California

 Imperial Beach, California

Juxtaposing the swap meet activity with the three giant screens looming here and there in the background was a wonderful visual game. I could have happily spent the day and made a zillion captures, but I needed to move on to Santee, CA, and then up to Riverside and Rubidoux.

Imperial Beach, California

Radiator Water

On I-8

Moving from Imperial Valley to the west, the terrain and the roads are interesting. Wind warnings abound, but I didn't think it was anywhere near as bad as Kansas. There's a ridge of mountains to cross, and the highway signs advise you to turn off your AC for "the next ten miles." Well, that wasn't such a bad idea. I punched my car's computer readout to engine temperature, and with the AC off but driving up the inclines, I saw the highest readings ever. 179° is normal. It got to 199° before the road crested the ridge and started to descend. I wondered how long these radiator water cisterns have been here. In a modern car, putting whatever water might be there into the radiator would probably do more damage than letting it overheat.

Three new urologists on staff.

Barstow, California

Salton Sea

Corvina Beach, California

Smith's Ranch Drive-in Theater

Twentynine Palms, California

The Road South

Barstow, California

Choppers

Imperial, California

I thought I had arrived at the Motor Vu theater in Imperial (as in Imperial Valley, the desert where they grow iceberg lettuce with irrigation water) California at the perfect time for the late afternoon sunlight on the venue and its surrounding tank farm. Then as I got out of the car I had to run to my anticipated camera position to arrive in time to capture what I presume are Border Patrol choppers (look at a map) but I have no idea why they were lining directly over the theater, or what they thought of my taking pictures of them. At that altitude they totally saw me. I finished with a lot of other views, all digital, no tripod, and got the hell out of there before anyone arrived to ask what I was doing. The HHR's computer blandly told me it was 113°.

There's a strange smell here, as though something is cooking. Of course, that would be everything.

When a Vanity Plate Just Isn't Special Enough

Scottsdale, Arizona