I called Aunt Karen to report my plan, and drove the Volkswagen back across America.
Ronald began to say goodbye to his good friends in Los Angeles, leaving their contact information for future contact.
The first is Cameron, who is now semi-living in the factory. Below, a group of stunt model makers who were more senior than him were being ordered around by him.
However, their expressions were quite convincing. Cameron impressed them with his professional ability and professional attitude.
Ronald asked him for his email address and phone number. However, people in the film industry often move, or stay with a group for a long time, so they have to ask for the address of their hometown. If you lose contact, you don't have to worry, you can pick up.
"Oh, I didn't know you were Canadian." Ronald was surprised.
"Yes, my hometown is on the other side of Niagara Falls. Very close to America."
Then came Gail. She is still busy in the president's office as always.
"Gail Anne Hurd...Palm Springs, California." Ronald wrote down Gail's address, too.
You may be staying in New York for four years, so don't lose important old friends.
"Have you been to Palm Springs?" Gail asked him.
“I haven’t been there yet, I just know there’s a golf tournament there.”
"If you have the opportunity to welcome you to my home, all the best, Ronald."
Palm Springs is a famous resort in California. It is an oasis in the desert with many springs and unique scenery. All the wealthy people live there.
"Everything went well, Gale. Mr. Coleman went to the set today, please say goodbye to him for me." The two hugged and said goodbye to each other.
Then there's Demi Moore. This girl is a bit unusual, maybe a director will appreciate her.
Instead of meeting her boyfriend at his apartment, Ronald hung up the phone.
"Hi. Demi, I'm Ronald. I'm moving to New York to go to college. Leave me your address and we'll keep in touch."
"Oh, Ronald, okay... West Hollywood." Demi Moore reported the address of the apartment her boyfriend rented.
"You know what? I'm writing a song for my boyfriend Freddie now. He said my lyrics are good. You may hear the songs I write on the charts in the future."
"Really? I didn't expect you to have a talent for writing lyrics. Maybe I will hear it on the radio in the future."
"Hehe. Ronald, don't you want to be a director? Why don't you stay in Hollywood and go to New York? Are there people making movies there?"
"Yes, there are people making movies in New York. I'm going to New York University to study film major soon, and there will be a chance to come to Hollywood in the future."
"All the best, Ronald, don't forget me when you become a director in the future."
"No, Demi. Everything goes well with you too."
Ronald then sold the TV and went to the post office to register a mail forwarding address for the next six months.
In the next six months, if there is mail sent to his rental address in Venice, the post office will automatically forward Stanton to Aunt Karen's house.
Finally finishing the trivial matters, Ronald took the cash and cashier's check, packed the duffel bag given to him by his aunt, and prepared to set off the next day.
This duffel bag was left behind by my uncle Steve, who died in the Vietnam War. It is very sturdy. It can hold a lot of things and can be carried by hand or carried on the back.
"Didi...didi."
Ronald, who set out at 7 o'clock in the morning, queued at a gas station for half an hour, but the gas line still didn't move. I can only honk the horn and ask the guy in the car next to me.
"What's going on? Why are there such long lines at the gas station?"
"Today, odd- and even-numbered cars will be rationed to refuel. Today is the 15th, and only odd-numbered cars can be refueled."
"Shxt, I have an even number." Ronald cursed secretly.
The political crisis in Persia is intensifying, demonstrations organized by various forces have occurred one after another, oil exports have stopped, international oil prices have soared, and the price of gasoline has also become higher and higher.
Unexpectedly, California has implemented odd and even number restrictions on refueling. I heard from the old man next door that the government did this during the oil crisis in 1973.
Ronald was ready to turn the wheel, find a hotel to stay for one night, and set out again tomorrow.
"Hey, if you have extra money, there is a way to jump in line." The guy next door secretly said to Ronald.
"What can I do? I originally planned to leave the city today. It would be great if I could refuel."
"As long as you buy a bottle of additives," the old man gave Ronald some popular science.
It turns out that as early as the oil crisis 6 years ago, the then commander-in-chief ordered a price limit on gasoline. The American people have invented an unspoken rule.
If you need to jump in line, you can drive in through the maintenance entrance of the gas station and pretend to buy a bottle of gasoline additives, and the gas station will fill it up for you. It is considered a private practice to circumvent price limits.
"Oh, thanks, man. But why don't you go?"
"Hey, a bottle of additives costs 5.9 yuan, and I have to tip the repairman. I don't care. My boss won't do anything to me if I'm late for work."
Ronald knew that it was not a big problem if it could be solved with money. I turned a corner and entered the maintenance entrance of the gas station.
"I'll buy a bottle of gasoline additives and fill up the gas tank for me." Ronald said the lines taught by his elder brother.
It really works. The maintenance man quickly took the bottle of additive and handed Ronald a separate refueling gun. They are all equipment prepared during the last oil crisis.
Ronald smiled and handed over a dollar tip.
"Where is the bathroom? I'll go first."
After a while, Ronald came out of the bathroom and saw the mechanic pouring additives into the fuel tank.
"Hey, hey, I don't need that, just come on."
Maybe the tip made the mechanic overly enthusiastic and he had already finished adding the additives.
Ronald, who was too late to stop him, took the gas gun and filled the gas tank himself.
"You don't add additives, why buy them?" the technician asked with gestures.
"Hey, it turns out you don't understand the unspoken rules better than I do." Ronald saw the mechanic's immature face. He turned out to be a Latino and spoke with a strong Spanish accent.
He waved his hand and stepped on the accelerator, drove the car out of the maintenance area, expressed his gratitude to the old man who gave the advice, and then got on the road and drove forward.
Instead of taking Highway 40, Ronald planned to take the northern route to Yosemite National Park and experience the beauty of the northern state.
Ronald turned onto Highway 1, which is a coastal road with beautiful scenery along the way. There are elephant seals and ancient castles that look very historical. The scenery is dazzling.
The most beautiful thing may be the beach. The beaches here are all private properties and are known as the most beautiful on the west coast of America.
Outside the mansions, there are white beaches. On some beaches, there are horses pacing, and the various charming hostesses make people stop.
While driving and admiring the scenery, Ronald drove very slowly without realizing it, and did not drive 5 miles in half an hour. It was an uphill climb, and Ronald stepped on the gas.
The car began to gasp and shake, not knowing what was happening. It seemed that something was wrong the further I drove it, and black smoke began to come out of the exhaust pipe.
Just as the car drove in front of a beach mansion, Ronald shouted to the hostess through the fence, "Madam! Where is the machine repair shop nearby?"
The hostess, who was wearing a red one-piece bathing suit, turned her head and expressed dissatisfaction with Ronald calling her ma'am.
She raised her arm and pointed to a small fork on the opposite side of the road. Ronald quickly turned the steering wheel and slowly drove over in low gear.
"What did you put in the gas tank?" the young white mechanic asked Ronald.
"I've never added anything other than gasoline... Oh, no, the gas station gave me a bottle of additive this morning."
"Additive? Is the bottle still there?"
"Here", Ronald hurriedly found the empty bottle in the car, there was still a little bit left in it.
"Diesel fuel use" the mechanic pointed at the words on the bottle and looked at Ronald, "This is for diesel."
"Shxt, that bastard at the gas station must not know English."
The mechanic smelled the liquid again and said, "It doesn't seem to be the smell of diesel additives. I don't know what's in it. It's an old bottle filled with other stuff."
Is this intentional? No wonder I put it in the gas tank while I was in the bathroom. What's the difference between that little bastard and those people who scatter nails on the ground for you to patch tires?
This is pure highway robbery.
"The combustion chamber is damaged and the carbon deposits are a bit serious. I'm afraid it will require major surgery." said the older mechanic next to him, who looked like he was the young man's father.
"How long will it take and how much will it cost?"
"This requires a machine repair station, and you have to queue for a day. It's not cheap, it'll cost you $300."
"$300? This is highway robbery. I only bought this car for $900."
The young mechanic shrugged and said there was nothing he could do.
"Or you can sell me this car and I'll pay you 400 yuan." My father, the mechanic, said.
"500?"
"450."
Okay, just 450, but you have to send me back to Los Angeles.
