The Pink Motel

Ahhh Vacation…

The Pink Motel

The Pink Motel

Filed under most misleading title of all time. I am aware that there is this thing called vacation of which I heard rumblings about all through the summer months. Alas I am a freelancer, these terms like leisure time, vacay, and R&R …surely they must be but unicorns dancing on skittle rainbows over a tropical island. Or some such fictionalized affair of a scene usually relegated to black velvet paintings.

But perhaps a land of such magic did once exist. As I drove out of my business meeting last week deep in the valley on San Fernando road this gem of a sign sparkled on the horizon surely a mirage caused by the good 10 degree jump in temperature in the SFV. But no there she was, resplendent, even with a matching diner next door! Cadillac Jacks Diner, yes sir don’t mind if I do! This is the kind of thing that justified silly words like agog in the english language. I was indeed agog. But the Pink Motel was oddly quiet and it was in the most peculiar of places. Surrounded by muffler shops a recycling center, train tracks due east across the street and a whole bevy of industrial warehouses it was as if a sad Liberace looked down from heaven and dropped a sequin, from his fabulous cape of the day, on a pile of dog poo.

I wandered about a bit, diner empty, a lone cleaning lady popped out of a room. No tenants out walking about. But there were several lovely vintage cars scatter shot in a few places across the parking lot. Although I didn’t mark down the model a beautiful white hard top was parked under number 7, my lucky number.

I wondered out in a daze and as I texted photos to few close friends one happened to ask for the address of the Pink Motel. I google mapped it but the map came up with nothing. No pink motel, no Cadillac Jacks diner either… I looked over my shoulder a few times for Rod Serling.

And now to buzzkill. Turns out Pink Motel is kept so minty pristine for film shoots these days. It surely did once house the holiday dreams of newlyweds, kids with water wings ready for the pool, dad’s with buzzcuts and Mom’s with a pile of Life magazines to catch up on. But now it’s just a ghost on celluloid.