Rolls-Royce Adventure

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This is *my* car, a 2009 Phantom. Nice foggy back drop on the Pacific Coast Highway, you can't see them from here, but there were herons all over the rocks. The Rolls-Royce people were happy there wasn't Rolls-Royce all over the rocks. They stress - a great deal - that we can't call them suicide doors. Here's the white Phantom, with suicide doors. Lunch was at a 'private residence' tucked off a weird windy road. They wouldn't tell us who owned it, but it was pretty amazing. I was 45 minutes late, because I was busy getting lost and U-turning the car and yelling at the Sat-Nav lady who wouldn't shut up. I wanted a photo of me here, sitting on the hood. They wouldn't let me, because they were scared I'd dent it. I didn't eat that much lunch. At the St. Regis, downtown San Francisco. It's the kind of place everyone speaks in hushed tones. Except me, of course. They have doormen who anticipate your every move. I was purposely just taking a little step as I waited in the lobby, and they kept moving to open the door. But they let me take their pictures anyway, really lovely people.
Because you can't forget who brung you to the dance...or sent you, in this case... Interior of a 2008 Drop Head (that's convertible to most of us) - the blue worked really well with the white, it's a nautical looking car. Still a dork, even in a Rolls-Royce. Awesome route we had, all twists and turns, rocks to one side, the ocean to the other. You'd go down through these valleys of huge redwoods and eucalyptus trees, it smelled amazing. My first time in California was really amazing.
Yeah, the cars are that shiny, all the time. When you bring them back in, a whole crew gussies them up every night. Anywhere I've been, they've all done that. I so wanted to take that crew home with me - might be able to see the floor mats in my van if it got cleaned more than once every two years. Another journo scratched one of the cars before we got there on the big cement planters in front of the hotel. These are not the cars you want to be remembered for scratching.