When I was growing up, one of the greatest adventures we could have was to go out for the day for a ride in the car with my mother’s dad. Always some place different, always some thing we hadn’t done before.

And of course, whenever we would ask where we were headed that day, he would always tell us, “the car knows where it’s going.” For a young child, the promise of an unknown adventure was just the thing. Travel down a new road could (and usually did) offer all kinds of rewards. A new place for lunch, a stop at a roadside fruit stand, even ice cream! There where times when I think he was as amused by those days out as we were.

There were all kinds of adventures. A stop at a trout farm in the Santa Cruz Mountains was one occasion. Sure, it was exciting, but when that six-year old puts a hook and a line into the water of a pond, only to be rewarded with a trout on the line moments later, it was pretty neat! That first fishing trip lead to other adventures, such as the casting ponds in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park and lunch at the Angler’s Lodge, as he proudly showed off his grandson’s to friends. Later on, some of us even accompanied him on long fishing weekend trips up to Fall River Mills in Shasta County. The Golden Gate Casting and Angling Club had arranged the use of a section of prime trout fishing along the Fall River. Whether trolling from a rowboat or casting from shore, adventure was always there.

One afternoon in particular always comes to mind from those years. We were fishing from a road bridge as the sun set. Now, my grandfather was very proud of his hand tied flies used for fishing. Works of art, they truly were. One in particular he was very proud of was a large back ant. Using that ant, he had hooked into a good sized trout and was giving it all the fight it could handle. At 14 inches, the trout was not giving up easily. He must have spent a good 20 minutes letting the fish run and reeling it back in. It was a moment for the ages. Until the line broke and the trout went free.

I don’t recall my grandfather as an angry man on many occasions. You could annoy him, as kids are want to do, but for the most part, he didn’t display anger often. I recall a few choice words being said, and that we grandchildren were very quiet on the ride back to town. Looking back, it may have been he was angrier about loosing the black ant fly than he was losing the fish.

As we grew older, he discovered another passion. Wine. With a basement at the home in Seacliff that never varied in temperature, it was the idea wine cellar. With California wines coming into their own, he was able to explore vintages by sampling on various trips about Northern California.

A couple of those are notable. The first one was a trip to a railroad museum, east of Fairfield, on State Route 12. We made the trip from Walnut Creek to Fairfield in a little more than 45 minutes, pulling off on eastbound Interstate 80 onto West Texas Street. And almost as soon as we made that turn, we made another sharp turn into a driveway of a house. Now, I had no idea where this detour was taking us, but he certainly did. We ended up downstairs at the house as he tasted the wine. And we left with several gallon jugs of good red wine. Years later, as a volunteer at the same railroad museum. I enjoyed more than a few glasses of the same jug red wine; the product of the Cadenasso Winery in Fairfield. Closed since 1982, it was good enough for my grandfather that first trip and friends, years later.

Another trip took us along the Sacramento River through the Delta, from Walnut Creek. It was a warm summer day when we found ourselves in Clarksburg at another home. This time, it was a tasting room in a converted garage. At the Bogle Vineyards. And as I recall, there were more than a few bottles purchased to make the trip back to San Francisco, with him.

He passed away in November of 1978. And while I didn’t taste a great deal of wine while he was alive, I did pay attention to lessons at the dinner table about what folks were about to enjoy. When it came time to clean out the house in Seacliff, the wine cellar was one of the last parts of the house to be addressed. My grandmother, aunt and mother decided to sell the collected wines together to someone they had known in the area for a number of years. In fact, my mother and aunt had grown up with him. The only proviso was that my mother would be allowed to keep a case of wine from the collection for herself. Being her fathers daughter, she chose well. Almost too well, as the gentleman making the purchase began to object to her choices. “She was taking the best wines!” Of course she was, and informed him that if he didn’t keep quiet, she would take it all.

I can attest that she did pick some of the best wines. We had a selection of them on my 21st birthday, including a stunning Chateau d’Yquem. A trip to Germany in 2001, saw us visit and sample at his favorite German winery, Schloss Johanisberg. We had another for my 50th birthday and most recently for my 60th, an absolutely amazing 1966 Chateau Margaux. It was as close to perfection in a glass as I am ever likely to enjoy. He would be greatly pleased that 46 years later, it was enjoyed as he would have liked to have done when he laid it down.

Recently, I was taken back to that afternoon at Clarksburg many years ago. Buying wine for an upcoming train trip, I picked out four bottles of Bogle’s Old Vine Zinfandel to enjoy. It may not be the equivalent of that 1966 Margaux, but I will indeed raise a glass with a smile to his memory when we open a bottle ad go back to that afternoon when the car knew where we were going…

A look ahead, as later this month sees me off on another private railroad car adventure.

A round-trip from Emeryville to Denver, crossing the Sierra and the Rockies, hopefully with plenty of snow. It’s been a while and this promises to be a good trip with a select group of travelers. Using a car we have traveled aboard a few trips before. And of course, I intend to share moments from this trip with you, loyal readers.

I’ve been lucky enough to have had more than my fair share of adventures that have taken me places that the average tourist doesn’t give any thought to. And I have been lucky enough to have shared those adventures with good friends.

Yes, a lot of miles. A lot of miles… More than a few of them to places that the average person would need to look three or four times to find on any map, let alone understand why anyone would travel there.

Take this one for example.

It was a trip to a ridge of a hill in central Nevada. A spot that overlooks a bend in the Humboldt River, out in Eureka County. A road, a dirt one, does lead to the spot and if you really track down the place, you will see it on Google Maps. In the big picture of things, it is place that doesn’t matter much. Yet, friends and I made the trip there a while back.

We were out in this part of the Silver State on what could best be described as a photographic expedition. Back in the era before digital cameras, when Kodachrome 64 ruled the world of photography, the goal was to get the best quality images and use the least amount of exposures in doing so. Okay, so I was shooting black and white film just because it was different from that of everyone else. Not to mention that I have found black and white allows a greater way to take advantage of light and shadow…

So, why was I there? A worthy question.

Not far from where we were that day was the spot where the streamliner City of San Francisco derailed at what the Southern Pacific called Harney, on August 12, 1939. At 9:39 pm that night, while passing over the fourth crossing of the Humboldt River, the train left the rails. The result was the deaths of 24 and injuries to 121 passengers and crew. Officially, the railroad blamed sabotage and the incident remains unsolved to this day, despite a $10,000 reward having been offered by the Southern Pacific.

My own connection to the location is a family one, as my great grandfather, Chris Walker, was a locomotive engineer with the Southern Pacific, and he later ran the City between Sparks and Carlin (along the route through Palisade Canyon and over these same rails).

Two other points figure into the area with Chris. In November of 1881, not long after his birth the previous month, his father had opened The Pioneer Saloon in a nearby mining camp, called Safford; not far from this location.

And Chris had a memorable incident one day in the years after the end of World War II, while running the City through the same area. As related by his fireman, Jack Bradley, when they took over the train from the incoming crew at Carlin, the previous engineer complained that the diesel electric locomotives powering the train that day were not up to standard. They had trouble maintaining the usual 90 miles per hour speed. The train was almost an hour late at that point. Quite the embarrassment and one that would not go unnoticed by the big brass. Someone would have some explaining to do.

So Chris and Jack headed off west from Carlin, through Palisade Canyon. The hope was that they could coax a bit more speed out of the locomotives and make up some of that lost time out on the open range across country. But things changed as they came out of the Canyon and were heading for the next manned station at Beowawe.

A track section gang had were getting their tools and track car clear of the mainline as Chris and Jack approached them around a corner. Chris later recalled that he only had a split second to act and he lifted his foot off of the dead man pedal. This was designed so that if the engineer should become disabled, he would not be able to keep his foot pressing on the pedal. By lifting it up, the electricity that powered motors on the axles of the locomotive was interrupted and the train braking system automatically went into a full emergency application.

The track crew all got clear, with the exception of one man who was still holding onto the track gang car as it was hit by the train. He suffered a broken arm and shoulder from the impact. Once the train came to a stop, Chris and Jack checked on the track crew and then consulted with the train’s conductors as to the passengers. While it had been a rough stop, no one was injured. That was something Chris was intensely proud of years later after he retired in 1951; no passenger aboard any of his trains had ever been injured.

The train was inspected at the scene and the decision made to head for the station at Battle Mountain, some 30 miles west – albeit at a much restricted speed. When they arrived, it became obvious that this would be a very long day for Chris, Jack and everyone else on the City that day. Every wheel in the train had been flattened by the emergency stop. With over 200 miles to go to Sparks, it was going to be a very slow and bumpy trip.

Eventually, Chris and Jack used up all of the 16 hours of on duty time they had. Years later, Jack remembered the meal they were served in the train’s dining car, by a crew from the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad (one of the trains partners, which also included the Union Pacific.) When the train finally reached Sparks, it was annulled and the passengers heading west, put on another train.

So, with all of those points of history, how could I not have made the trip to that spot? But that’s only one of many adventures, and I hope to have many more.

Yes, there certainly is a lot of noise about.

Of course, politics takes up a fair bit of bandwidth. Lots of chatter and not much being actually listened to on all sides. After a while, you kind of just want to tune it all out. The easy way to deal with it right? In a way, I can understand why some folks just don’t vote and take everything as it happens. Yet, I also see that if you don’t stand up to things now and then, by doing something as simple as casting your ballot, then you really don’t have much to complain about.

No question about it, there is plenty going on nowadays. You got your global warming, your business economics, your trade imbalances, your entertainment choices, your health, your family… it just goes on and on, doesn’t it?

I get it. Times can lead you to have changes in your priorities. Where once upon a time, you had plenty of disposable income to spend on the latest and greatest, that may not be the case for you right now. Other things have made their way to the front of the line and your focus may be on them. Sure, we all have those moments. Maybe your own health, maybe the health of a family member or friend. Maybe your transportation has decided this is the time to demand repairs or maybe a new set of tires? Whatever it may be, that’s the issue in need of your attention.

Honestly, there isn’t anything wrong in that. Nor is there anything wrong with the other side of the coin. If it makes you happy to spend all that disposable income, there are plenty of businesses out there at all levels waiting to give you an opportunity to do just that. More power to you.

As the years pass by, it becomes less for me about the collectibles from all of the events and more about the people who I shared experiences with. Those are the treasured moments. The memories of smiles and some tears, too. A great bottle of wine or a good cigar, the laughs and good times; those are the kind of things you can’t put a price on. And down the road, those are the things you can look back upon.

Yes, sir… plenty of times ahead and behind. All worth it. Go out and get some.

So… The NBC television show “Timeless” aired it’s last produced two episodes.

I know that for some folks this was big news. When last we saw the show, there was a cliff hanger ending, all to set up the next season of the show. Unfortunately, the network just didn’t see viewer numbers worthy of that third season and announced the show was among those going “on hiatus.

TV is indeed a funny thing. All kinds of great shows get pitched by some very talented people to the various networks and new media outlets. Rare is the one that actually has a pilot show produced, let alone aired for the viewing public. And the odds to get a full season pick up? Even higher against. The fact that “Timeless” managed to get two seasons worth of shows aired is pretty good, when you come right down to it.

But the fact is, television is an expensive proposition. If the stories are to be believed, Timeless cost $4 million an episode to produce for broadcast. The days of episodes for under $100,000 are long gone. Advertisers may not even cover today’s costs, so the production company hopes that a show will bring forth a profit at some point.

I’m am unabashed fan of time travel television. From CBS’s “You Are There” to ABC and Irwin Allen with “The Time Tunnel”, to Fox and “Sliders”, to NBC and “Quantum Leap”.

But “Timeless”? Call me a curmudgeon, but I just never got involved as I had with those other shows. And the whole Rittenhouse/bad guy thing never really seemed worth investing time in. Although, the “putting right, what once went wrong” had been a big part of why I enjoyed “Quantum Leap”.

After everything “Timeless” had been through, it all came down to killing one conspirator at a point in time to save another character, with the brave death of another. Author Gladys Taber said that she felt killing off characters was a cheap writers device when they couldn’t think of anything else. And in this case, I heartily agree. It was all too easy and all too neat, wrapped up tightly to get the heroes home and safe.

Good story telling always takes unexpected turns. Audiences need to see the thing they don’t expect. Think of a “wild mouse” roller coaster. Some of what makes if most fun is the unexpected sharp turns, especially when you don’t anticipate them.

In the case of “Timeless” what we got was everything we expected. And that was a problem for me. I would have much rather seen the team have to work for a solution. It just wasn’t as satisfying an ending as it deserved.

Rarely does anything end up clean and neat.

Maybe audiences can get better in the next television series that treads into the alternate universes of time travel.