Malibu is in the news this week so I thought I'd share a Malibu story.
Recently my wife and I went to Buelton to be with some friends who were celebrating their "44th" birthday. We had a great time. And since we're making a conscious effort to slow things down and not rush everywhere, we decided to take the long way, the more scenic way, home, via the Pacific Coast Highway.
On the way back, we stopped in at Coral Beach Cantina, a Mexican restaurant I had discovered in another lifetime when I was insanely dating a woman who lived way past Zuma Beach. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, now I remember.
As we sipped our humongous margaritas, a beautifully restored 66 Chevelle pulled into the parking lot. The owner got out of the car and looked strangely familiar. I assumed he was some character actor who appeared in a thousand movies but still enjoyed anonymity, like my neighbor M. Emmett Walsh.
On the way to the bathroom, I stopped at his booth to express my admiration for the car. He was more than happy to talk about it. And his 25 other collector cars that he has garaged. As he was going on about his Mustangs, Camaros and El Caminos, I was thinking...
"Was he crooked police captain in Beverly Hills Cop 3?"
"Was he one of the sleazy agents in Jerry Macquire?"
"Did he play Soldier #4 in Platoon?"
I couldn't place the face.
Then the burritos showed up and the waiter told us the mysterious Chevelle owner comes in all the time. Said he used to be coach of the LA Lakers. My mind raced.
It was Pat Riley.
His hair had turned white. He didn't seem as tall. And he longer sported the 28 inch signature waist that was once his early 90's trademark.
I went back to the booth to introduce myself. Not because I was a huge Lakers fan, I'm more a college basketball guy. But because Coach Riley and I actually worked together when he was the local spokesman for your Southern California Chrysler Plymouth Dealers.
"Oh yeah, those," he said reluctantly.
Either Pat didn't want to talk about shitty commercials or he didn't want his chimichangas to get cold, so I wisely made quick departure.
I wonder if Coach Riley has a blog and whether he is writing about our chance encounter.
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Note: The 71 Mercury Cougar convertible was spotted at a gas station in my neighborhood. It triggered today's memory and is not affiliated with Pat Riley.
I hope my old colleague, and everybody else I know in Malibu, came through the fires unscathed.
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