This past weekend, I explored Santa Maria on a mission for change—not Obama “change,” but pocket change.
When I was given the assignment to write the Daytripper column, my mind flooded with ideas, some of which involved airplanes, limousines, trains, and dragons. Unfortunately, all my ideas were out of the realm of both budget and reality.
So, I began thinking of affordable places that would be fun to visit and write about. Maybe a day at one of the beaches of Santa Barbara or a trip to San Francisco to see some old pals. I decided to call some friends to see if they would be available for the weekend, but when I dug through my pockets for my phone, I found that they were empty. Usually when I reach for something in my pocket and come up empty, it means two things: whatever I’m looking for is lost and/or I have no money.
I’m an intern who gets paid with praise and pats on the back. Oh, and free coffee. But giving a reporter coffee is like giving a soup server a ladle; it’s a necessary component of the job.
I needed an idea to accomplish two things: to spend the least amount of money possible and to make money, if possible. The solution I came up with was to explore Santa Maria on foot and look for unwanted coins on the street.
Seriously.
I’ve lived in Santa Maria for most of my life and have never walked more than the distance between a store and the closest parking space. The idea of sightseeing in Santa Maria has never occurred to me simply because there’s nothing to see. I figured I should take the opportunity to observe the town closely. Maybe there was something interesting that I’ve never noticed.
After all, Santa Maria couldn’t be as boring as everyone makes it out to be. I was certain that any random occurrence could spark into a great adventure. Approximately three hours and a couple of miles later, I realized I was wrong.
I began my journey armed with a long board, a backpack, two water bottles, a camera, two pens, a notepad, and a vague sense of purpose.
Ten minutes into my adventure, things were already going in my favor, with flavor. On East Main Street I ran into a booth setup by Mega 97.1 in front of Little Caesar’s Pizza. I asked one of the DJs if the station was giving anything away. It wasn’t. But luckily, Yogurt Palace right behind the booth was. I loaded up on calories from the free samples and the person working gave me a free vanilla yogurt cone.
As I continued onward, my feet were in pain due to blisters that had formed days before, but I had prepared for this setback by bringing my long board. So I went from strolling to rolling down the busy street.
However, the consequences of shifting my mode of transport also shifted my focus from keeping my eyes on the scenery to keeping my face off the pavement. I was nearly hit by two cars trying to make a right turn, so I decided to take a detour into the neighborhoods after I spotted a couple of yard sale signs.
I rummaged through some boxes. I wasn’t too fond of the retro décor or the recordable VHS tapes with handwritten movie titles. I did find a couple of pennies and dimes in one box but my upright moral character and outstanding ethics wouldn’t let me take them. But my lack of dignity did not stop me from asking.
I spotted another yard sale a couple of blocks away, still without a penny to my name. There I found a Texas Chainsaw Massacre cap made of leather and thought it would be a nice addition to my weird hat collection, but I was disappointed to find yellow stains on the inner brim shaped like the letters “e” and “w.”
At this point I still hadn’t found any money and the highlight of my trip was a free frozen yogurt. I was tired, sweaty, and wishing I was in Santa Barbara or San Francisco.
But I wasn’t going to head home without finding some coins. As I was skating past the McDonald’s on Broadway I came up with an idea: With all the daily transactions of money that happen at the drive-through window, there had to be someone who dropped his change. I’ve never been great at math, but probability has always helped me pass multiple-choice tests, so I figured I could count on it again.
I patiently waited until there weren’t any cars and the drive-through lane was empty.
As I approached the drive-through lane, I wasn’t sure if the circular dots on the ground were coins or pieces of gum that had been repeatedly run over. The closer I got, the more I realized how great old Abe looked on zinc and copper. I hit the jackpot: lying there like treasure was 18 cents.
I still appreciate our small city, but let it be known that it’s much more enjoyable driving through at 35 miles per an hour.
Intern Jason Banania also looks for money in his couch cushions. Tell him more places to look at intern@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in May 24-31, 2012.
