As we all know, Bill was always taking off to do something. One year he booked himself into a golf camp in Carmel Valley, about an hour south of Santa Cruz. After the camp he was scheduled to come spend a few days with Mom and Dad. I was working construction in Monterey back then and somehow his visit coincided with my being assigned a company pickup. We decided the timing was perfect and when his camp ended, he would follow me up to Santa Cruz driving my Cherokee while I drove the pickup. So, Dad was always a stickler for keeping a full 5-6 car lengths between him and the car ahead on the highway. Imagine my surprise as we started out and Bill was a length and a half off my rear bumper. At first I thought he was just getting used to the Cherokee and would back off, but no . . . I made a couple lane changes, then a couple speed changes while keeping a close eye on my mirrors. The distance between us never varied by more than a few feet. It was kind of disconcerting until I remembered that both Bill and Dad were Navy fly boys. Bill was just driving the way he would have flown as my wing man. I started to relax a bit and realized it was a very efficient way to follow someone. Never too far back so if a light changed between us, I'd have to pull over and wait. Always right in view so I never had to worry about losing him. I think Dad had a martini ready to pour for him when we got to Santa Cruz.
