Unsung Santa Cruz: Lookout highlights regular folks doing great things I noticed a lot of the latter around town back in the day, the cars looking like old sneakers, unable to disguise that “I’ve been driven across the continent” look, their out-of-state plates offset by decidedly local bumper stickers (the Mystery Spot was a popular one), communicating their owners’ eagerness to become a local as soon as they could get an appointment at the DMV. A trained eye could easily tell the difference between the Hendersons from Ohio on a summer road trip with the kids and a couple of friends from Boston who’d hocked everything on a one-way trip west to “Frisco” or elsewhere in “Cali” (eccentric terms reportedly used in other parts of the country) in pursuit of a new life. Twenty or 30 years ago, a car with out-of-state plates was a pretty common sight around Santa Cruz. So I had no way of knowing whether Joe (or Joanne) Duct Tape was only passing through, or the just-arrived new kid in town, still practicing the pronunciation of “Soquel” in the mirror. Waiting for the light to change isn’t exactly conducive to approaching a stranger and starting a conversation, and I’m not big on tailing people to their eventual destination. If the Civic’s overall condition didn’t tell you, then certainly the plates suggest that this car has done some hard traveling. Let’s just say it’s from one of those states that touch the Atlantic Ocean, more than 3,000 miles to the east. ![]() First, the trunk is being held closed by two vertical strips of duct tape - not exactly standard equipment on that model, as far as I know, but at least the color scheme works well with the car’s finish. There are two things I notice about the car waiting in front of me, a 2000-ish Honda Civic as gray and dreary as the December sky. I’m sitting at a red light on Mission Street. ![]()
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