The bucolic era of 1950’s-60’s air travel seems to be the go-to example of how air travel used to be and could be again if only we had a little more class. Men in suits, passengers smiling and helping each other, friendly crew and agents are all the missed features of this bygone era. Newsflash: you couldn’t have afforded it when it was so different. Air travel was only for the rich. That’s why everyone wore suits and dresses and greeted each other with a smile and help. These were the upper class talking to other upper class people. Tickets used to be expensive as hell. Only rich and businessmen could afford a ticket. When your friend moans “it used to be so nice and luxurious. Flying was an event,” remind them they are exactly right, and that it is no longer an asset only the wealthy can enjoy. Soon enough, people will be saying yacht travel is just too crowded and not like it used to be.

1950’s air travel was also horrific. Forget comfortable seats and amenities (beyond martinis and cigarettes), forget safety, and certainly forget the quiet and peace of a modern aircraft cabin. Props and early jet engines were no picnic to be sitting between, and our insulation and layout knowledge has increased by leaps and bounds since those early days. Modern air travel provides you with so many new benefits that all the Don Drapers in the world would have gladly traded in their free in-flight booze for. Current planes are faster, safer, and cheaper than ever. I’m sorry that you have to put up with other humans for a few hours while on one, but by no means can you compare today’s economical and egalitarian air travel to yesteryear’s travel for only the wealthy. So the next time someone you know moans “air travel sucks now,” just go ahead and remind them that the past is never as rosy as people like to imagine.

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Honestly, the hard part is getting out of the US. That’s not  because the Mexican Border Patrol is incredibly thorough and diligent – they aren’t; they couldn’t care less who enters their country – it’s because Southern California highways are such fully-loaded shit sandwich with shit fries awful. Just getting to the border is a trek and a half. But after you’ve made that trek and driven under the faded “Bienvenedo A Mexico” sign and crossed into Tijuana, you are in the promised land. Adult Disneyland.

The bombed-out third world country that is Tijuana is a rude slap to the face after driving through the affluence that is San Diego. TJ is stop #1 on every one of my surf trips. You’ve gotten up ass early in the morning, you’ve braved the freeways, and now its time for a reward. Park your ride, hide your valuables and not-so-valuables, and find yourself the best tacos you’ve ever eaten. Don’t worry, they are everywhere. I know the brothels, pharmacies, and knick knacks are tempting – and stop for an hour if you must satisfy that particular urge – but then its back on the road ASAP for you have waves to catch son.

The coastal route down to Baja offers other-worldly views, wide open skies, and a veritable parade of California drivers. Seriously, despite all the signs being in Spanish and distances in Kilometers, despite the abject poverty and shanty towns, and despite the rock-solid sensation that this place is a lifetime away from the US, 90% of cars on the road are luxury SUVs with California plates. Yuppies.

Keep pushing South and you’ll leave most (but certainly not all) of them behind. Soldier on until you start to see quite a few desert racing trucks. This a good sign. It means you are nearing your surfing destination – Ensenada. North Western Mexico offers several surf destinations, from the decent to the pro-only. You can hardly go wrong, but my pick is San Miguel. This cobblestone beach is my slice of paradise. No, the water is rarely all mine, but the locals here are friendly and the vibe of everyone in the water is positive. The waves are non too shabby either.

Get your sets in until you’re delirious, then head back through Ensenada’s outskirts and grab some more righteous food to refuel yourself for either the drive back or a night out with the local senoritas. Either way, you’ve surfed, you’ve eaten tacos, and you’ve lived.

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Day two on our LA adventure dawns and we’re itching to get on the road. We’re excited because the particular roads we’re not waiting to get on happen to be two of the most storied roads in the auto enthusiasts lexicon. Today we use the excellent CLA AMG to tame the epic Mulholland Highway. And to get there, we taking the irreplaceable Pacific Coast Highway. So what I’m saying is that it’s going to be a good day.

After a hearty home-cooked egg and bacon breakfast, to fortify our bodies and courage of course, we expectantly plopped ourselves down into our Merc’s firm sport seats. A touch of the starter button, a fiddle with the mirrors, and we’re off to meet our California road destiny. Or so we thought. We all know LA is known for its traffic. It’s freeways are some of the most congested in the nation, but that’s why we’re avoiding them and taking the famous PCH. But someone forgot to tell the locals, because the Coast Highway was just as slammed and slow as the much-cursed 405 freeway. Stop and go. For miles. Our 355 horses under the hood trapped behind an endless beige sea of Priuses and Range Rovers. The PCH is a great road that perfectly winds around some truly breathtaking ocean views. But anywhere within the Los Angeles County line, it’s just another congested road to crawl along. We were solely disappointed. That said, further North away from the city the traffic vanishes and the PCH can be one of the best coastal drives in these United States.

But up North we are not, so we are thankful when we finally spot the sign we’ve been aching for – Topanga Canyon. With a frustration-venting mash of the loud pedal, we catapult off the Coast Highway and onto Malibu’s infamous canyon roads. Mulholland has played host to automotive antics of everyone from James Dean and Steve McQueen, to racers like Richard Petty and Mario Andretti, to the everyday garage monkeys like you and me. It is first and foremost the people’s road. An equal opportunity joy-giver and fender-denter. And most importantly after the disappointment of the PCH, it lives up to its hype.

The CLA AMG is all-too happy to tackle this icon. It positively paws at the pavement below as it rockets from apex to apex. I’m giving the 4Matic all wheel drive – and bucket seats – a workout and they are proving very capable of holding up. This AMG is not a super car or purpose-built sports car; it’s a tarted up commuter sedan. It has limits. But I’ll be damned if I found them during our day in the high desert canyons.

Mulholland has a bit of everything. Long straights, gentle sweepers, and a treacherous length of impossibly narrow hairpins affectionately called The Snake by the locals. The Snake is where the posers stop short. It is a highly demanding and technical. It is also constantly populated with fully-armored motorcyclists pushing their Ducatis and Aprilias  insanely close to your fenders. The Snake is for real, and we threw the CLA AMG into it by the scruff of its neck. I’d love to tell you all about the tire smoke and sideways drama we got into. But I can’t. From perfectly executed hairpins to completely botched switchbacks, the AMG handled it all the same – it tightened up, made a terrific noise, and accelerated out with as much speed as I could coax out of it.

Mulholland’s famous twisties proved no match for our Merc, as we tired out well before our Teutonic chariot did. If you’re visiting Mulholland, its obligatory that you make a stop at The Rock Store. Believe it or not, we did not see a geode, crystal, or any other kind of rock for sale there. The Rock Store is the go-to stopping place for the bikers, cyclists, and drivers who claim The Snake every weekend. The food’s not brilliant and its always crowded, but everyone is friendly and there are always plenty of fun rides to check out.

After a full day attempting to get in as much trouble as possible on these narrow roads, we point the Merc West and ride out the remainder of Mulholland back to it’s exit on the PCH – a full 39 miles North from where we entered the canyons. We get to enjoy a few miles of un-trafficked PCH, then it’s back to the grind. You always know you’re near Los Angeles when you hit bumper-to-bumper traffic.

It has been a long and sweaty day, and the FactoryTwoFour crew marches on its stomach. Before getting back to our base at Venice Beach, we detour East to Santa Monica’s Sawtelle Blvd. For about 1.5 miles this strip of pavement is West LA’s Little Osaka. We have come here for some of the best ramen this side of Tokyo. Situated on the far edge of the street right where Sawtelle’s Japanese-ness peters out and returns to burger joints and Best Buys sits Daikoku Ramen. Smack dab in-between a Panda Express (for the unadventurous tourists) and a Marshall’s discount store, this tiny restaurant serves up hearty bowls of happiness. With an interior done up to perfectly mimic a Japanese side street, and a pork broth that is cooked and simmered over 24 hours, Daikoku is legit. Salt is the killer of good ramen. You can spot an inferior product right away if it tastes salty. Next up are the noodles. They should still be al dente even after sitting in the piping hot broth during the coarse of your meal. If your noodles lose their slight bite or you’re tasting more salt than pork, you’re eating like a chump. Daikoku has no worries on either front.

After slurping our way to and past satisfaction, we are well and truly stuffed. We knock off the evening with an enourmous bowl of Hawaiian shaved ice down the block and head home to plan our last day in this town we’ve come to love, Los Angeles. Our final day is going to be a doozy too – with street art, taco stands, open-air markets, and a few hundred miles of criss-crossing this crazy cities neighborhoods. Can’t wait.

Read part three of our Los Angeles Adventure here!

The post 72 Hours in Los Angeles PT 2 appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

With a town this size and all the best spots hopelessly spread out, you need a chariot capable of getting in and out of tight situations, one that carries ample speed to get you to and fro, and has the right amount of je ne sais qua to fit in from Beverly Hills down to the barrio. Enter the CLA AMG we’ve got for the weekend. This 2014 Mercedes is bathed in brilliant Jupiter Red to announce your arrival to anyone that can see it, and has an addictive exhaust bark to relay the message to all those who don’t. This thing is so LA it probably has an agent. With the right steed in hand, we’re off to capture the magic of this city in one action-packed weekend.

LA’s series of neighborhoods are microcosms unto themselves. Each is formed around some racial, ethnic, economic, or spiritual commonality. These groups and areas are ever-shifting and morphing, making LA truly unknowable. But we’re still gonna try our damnedest this weekend!

The city takes up the area between the San Gabriel Mountains in the East all the way to the ocean 40+ miles to the West. When most of us picture LA, the image is one of palm trees and sandy beaches. It’s certainly not a bad image. Locals call the area pictured in this mental image the West Side, and it is where FactoryTwoFour has set up our base camp. Venice Beach is still a neighborhood of lingering ill-repute for being on the sketchier side of ‘hoods, but it is in fact heavily gentrified and getting more so every day. It is still brimming with character though, and we’re glad to call it home for the weekend.

After arriving, jettisoning our luggage, and freshening up our first stop is the Venice Board Walk and the beach. ‘Natch. Rounding the corner onto the boardwalk is like leaving the United States and entering Tijuana if it was run by a pot smoking street artist Willy Wonka. It is a truly wonderful place full of strange and frightening sights and sounds. Marijuana dispensaries every 50ft or so, homeless people dressed up as mountain men wearing roller blades, or tacky t-shirts with inappropriate messages or cleverly re-worked corporate logos – all this can be yours and much much more on the Venice Board Walk.

Just steps away, the beach offers us needed respite from the crazies and the tourists. It’s always 70 degrees here. Always. But it’s still LA, so the water is neither clear nor particularly clean. Swim on, we certainly did, but take a shower afterward.

On to lunch and Abbot Kinney – a street recently declared The Coolest Block in America by GQ Magazine. Abbot Kinney is a simple stretch of asphalt less than a mile long flanked on either side by upscale boutiques and holier-than-thou restaurants and bars. Several top chefs have outposts here, but our destination is Chop Daddy’s. This unpretentious BBQ joint offers up killer grub to the hipsters of Venice without falling victim to their ways. No dried flowers in whimsical vases, no strange food pairings or unpronounceable ingredients. Just damn good BBQ sandwiches and fried pickles. Get on it.

Now it’s back in the righteous CLA and up to Santa Monica. This town is akin to Venice’s older, responsible brother. The strange and unique are not welcome here. It is a very safe and predictable place. And very boring. Santa Monica is the outpost of the Old White Person. If worldwide chain restaurants and brands are your thing, and you enjoy paying $16 for an “artisan cupcake,” you’ll fit right in. What Santa Monica has that is of interest to us is a world-class farmer’s market. Chefs from across the city descend on the Santa Monica Farmer’s Market to grab the freshest produce to bring back to their Michelin-starred restaurants. And of course to talk some shop with their chef buddies who they invariably run into. Hosted on the 3rd Street Promenade ever Wednesday and Saturday, there is no better place to pick up the freshest California fruit, OR find a very fresh Californian date to join you for dinner. Browse around, try a sample of the best strawberries you’ll ever eat. Grab a fresh baguette and some flowers. Just don’t be surprised if you start fighting over the last bunch of spinach with Chef Sang Yoon.

Pro tip: avoid the Santa Monica Pier. It’s an overcrowded tourist trap brimming with lame carnival rides, terrible food, and worse street vendors hawking shot glasses and neon-colored visors. Everyone goes to the pier because they think its a must-see Westside attraction. Don’t be everyone. You can see it plenty well from the great bluffs overlooking the ocean, and there you will avoid being bunched in with fat mid-westerners who sweat too much and shower too little.

So after samples the local ware and partaking in all the good and bad the Westside of Los Angeles has to offer, it’s time for…………….a nap. But after that, it’s time for dinner! Why yes, our city excursions do revolve around food stuffing our faces. What of it?

Tonight we’re rocketing in our svelte Mercedes to A-Frame, Roy Choi’s joint in Culver City that is on our go-to list for LA. The atmosphere is fresh, the beautiful people are right, and the plates of Korean-American mashups are wholly unique anywhere in the world. We pig out on perfectly crisp Beer Can Chicken, seaweed covered popcorn, sublime duck, Asian ribs, and one of our party even hogged the enormous burger all to themselves. And you know we didn’t leave without getting the epic pound cake churro. Damn good.

Since Chef Choi’s just treated us so well, we’re off to cap our first day in Los Angeles at his Abbot Kinney bar The Brig. It’s small, modern, and incredibly loud when a band is shoe-horned in there, but there’s a pool table in the back and more beautiful people to be enjoyed. After hustling a group off the billiards table, we camped out on it for the rest of night, getting tipsy on Manhattens and reflecting on the adventures behind us and those still in front of us. When we call it a night, our minds are filled with the big day ahead. Tomorrow, we stretch the CLA AMG’s legs in the Malibu Canyons…

Read part two of our Los Angeles Adventure here!

The post 72 Hours in Los Angeles Pt 1 appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

And here are some pertinent facts about this luxury palace in the sky: I am flying Delta, I am not in first class, this is a busy weekend, I’m on a domestic flight, and it only lasts about an hour and a half. Delta is feeding me on an hour and a half flight. That’s just crazy talk. I only had enough time to eat, drink, and jot down the last two paragraphs.

This magical land of flying nirvana is Delta’s brand new shuttle service between Los Angeles and San Francisco, and damn is it good. I’ve done this flight on Virgin, and all the purple mood lighting in the world isn’t going to make up the free beer and wine the big D is liberally handing out. Delta launched 14 daily round-trips of this quick route just last month and it is clear they are coming in guns blazing trying to capture the lucrative business travelers who make this flight routinely.

Being one of these business travelers, I’ve flown all across this country including similar shuttle routes like NYC-Washington, DC and none of those have been as perk-laden as the SF-LA route. None of those had the kind of legroom you could smuggle a monkey in. Yes, LAX is a hole and SFO is permanently under construction so the destinations leave much to be desired. But many a wise man has said that it is the journey that matters. Here, I’ve found a journey worth taking.

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Heading upstairs, you are met with an immaculate presentation of tables, art, lighting, and a view of the kitchen, along with an impossibly polite staff to match.  As you sit and take it all in, you feel comfortable, warm, and at ease.  Conversations around you are at a minimal volume and not distracting from the ambiance of the restaurant.

Then the drinks arrive.  These are no ordinary drinks, but perfectly crafted, properly glassed, works of art in liquid form.  Exquisite ingredients, perfect amounts of ice, the right ratio to allow each flavor to dance on the tongue.  My drink of choice tonight was the Manhattan neat, and I left there craving another.  It was perfect, heavenly in nature, velvet on the tongue.  Smooth would not begin to describe this drink.  (It is actually the drink that inspired our latest quick fix recipe)  My fellow diners all tried other classics, from a simple vodka and lemon to an Old Fashioned, all of which were enjoyed at the perfect pace and in the same, pleasant manner.  This was the perfect start to an amazing evening.

Now, there are often a few dishes I lean towards when dining out, and lately it has been Brussels sprouts.  Having been the victim of horrible recipes in the past, it took me a long time to get passed the memories and horrible flavors to rediscover this amazing green.  OneUP has a side order of crispy Brussels sprouts, and please take it from me, you want to order these first.  Multiple plates of them.  Make these your appetizer.  The char, the bitterness, all mixed with oils and fats from the bacon and seasoning, made these heavenly.  Were they the star of the show?  I would not go that far, but to say they stole quite a bit of the spotlight would be an honest statement.  They were astounding and easily shared and enjoyed by the whole table.

The star of the show though came with the main dish, and not even mine.  Across the table, one of my fellow diners ordered the mushroom risotto, made with sauteed mushrooms, leeks, truffle oil, and Parmesan.  Simple ingredients prepared so perfectly, brought together at the right time, it was heavenly.  The risotto was cooked to perfection, the perfect texture, as the Parmesan and truffle oil did not mask, but enhanced the whole dish.  It was balanced, light, and filling.  By no means were the braised ribs I ordered anything to sell short, but this perfectly made mushroom risotto was the meal of dreams.

It’s hard to wonder how such a perfect dining experience could exist in a hotel, where food is often thought the be the afterthought of most places.  But here, within the walls of the Grand Hyatt, I sat in wonder and amazement at the ingredients I had just experienced.  The perfect balance of ambiance, modern flair, and perfectly crafted food and drink, all within a welcoming and warm setting.

The post An evening at OneUP Restaurant & Lounge appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

First of all, think before you pack. Write out the days of the week you’re going to be traveling and start by righting down what you absolutely need to wear on certain days. You know you want to be comfortable and have slip-off shoes on travel days, you might have a meeting you need to dress up for, and there might be a rodeo you don’t want to miss that requires Wranglers and huge belt buckle. Once you have your necessary outfits down, you can start sketching the rest of the days looking for clothing items that can be shared and used again. Be ruthless in your re-wearing and pack as little as possible.

Next, pack your suitcase with your shoes first. Either by facing the soles of the shoes toward the edges of the bag, or lying them heal to toe, create a layer of shoes at the bottom. Next you want to pack any fragile items like watches or sunglasses inside your empty shoes, and pack any additional space either inside your shoes or around them with soft pieces such as underwear, socks, or t-shirts. It is these softer items that you want to use the “roll” method with by turning them into compressed tubes of fabric. Your goal with all this filler material is to create a nice, flat foundation on which to build the rest of suitcase.

Now it’s time to bundle. Lay any pants or jackets into the suitcase one at a time without folding them. For pants, that means the waistband goes all the way to touching the short edge of your suitcase, while the legs drape out over the side. With jackets, the collar once again goes against the short side while the tail hangs over the edge. The key here is to alternate which edge items are hanging over. You should go back and forth on each item so you are left with a suitcase with two bare long edges and the two short edges with clothing draped over them. Starting with the second item, fold the excess back into the case. Work backward (fold in the item on top at any time) unit everything folded within the confines of the suitcase. By alternating layers like this, your pants will be less likely to wrinkle and the thickest sections (waistband and collar) won’t all be on the same side but evenly distributed. Now use your suitcase’s “bra straps” – those interlocking ribbons that cinch everything down.This creates your second flat layer of clothes.

At this point you’ll want to place your folded collared shirts on top of this second layer. If you’ve been judicious enough on the number of items you’re bringing, you should have ample space between the bundle layer and the lid of the case to not crunch your collars. This space is also where your toiletries double-bag goes. Finally, snake your belts around the edges of the case rather than curling them up. You sir, are done packing. You should now have enough in your bag to last anywhere from a weekend to a year, depending on your own personal level of style. For a last tip, leave your toiletries bag in your suitcase for the next time you travel. Now bon voyage!

The post Pack Like a Man appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

The opportunity arose one weekend, to fly out unexpectedly to Olympia, Washington and witness an old friend get married.  With most of my previous travels being focused on work, the destination, and activities surrounding the trip, this was one of the first times I was showing up with little plans, and an open road ahead of me.  And with only 32 hours to truly get lost in a city I never met, I knew I better do it right from the start.

Meeting me at the SeaTac airport was the new Nissan Sentra, a car I was only familiar with in passing, and often not one that caught more than a passing glance in the past.  Admittedly, I was not a big fan of Nissans in the past, and looked at the ride in front of me with neither excitement nor hesitation; it was merely the vehicle I was to go exploring in.  But, as I hit the road, I found this ride deserved more than that passing glance as it would ultimately become the foundation of the trip.

I realize that a 60 mile journey from the airport to the destination might not be much, but it is enough to set the tone for the coming 32 hours.  Hitting the highway, I merged into what could only be described as the friendliest and least stressful rush hour traffic I had ever experienced, with little to no aggravation from my fellow drivers.  I even came to realize I was the aggressive one of the road, and did end up toning it back quite a bit.

Finally arriving in Olympia, I felt ready to explore the town, hitting up the Trader Joes for some mixed nuts and then wandering down to the docks and waterfront.  The roads weren’t that smooth as I headed down the hills, but aside from the occasional big bump, none of it was a concern.  The roads wound around the little town with crosswalks seemingly every five feet, and road divots designed to slow you down in between.  Again, barely a concern.  As I followed some unknown road, I came upon the farmer’s market right off the water and knew I wouldn’t be leaving for a while.

The colors.  The smells.  I can only wish I could properly describe them, put the words to paper that would share with you the experience of this little market.  By little, I mean packed, bright, expansive, and amazing.  The workers behind each stand welcoming with a smile, offering a taste, and expanding my visual pallet with colors I could only have dreamed about.  The produce looked too good to eat, and the flowers seemed to pop off the stem a sense of excitement.

I felt myself starting to fall in love at this little market; the hours I could have spent wandering each stall, trying and buying the produce and fresh made goods, and taking in the sweet sea air mixed with the pine from the surrounding forests, a wave of comfort rolled over me.  I now knew why so many people loved the area, raved of the people and the culture.  This melting pot of people, bringing their vibrant cultures in to one home, felt perfect.  A whiff of curry from the stand by the water, then mixed with the spices from the Mexican food cart in the middle, the smell of meat being smoked on the other end.  It mixed together in the air in a perfect perfume that perfectly described the area.

After a few hours and a few purchases, I got back in the Sentra to start exploring the hills surrounding the water.  Climbing up with no issue, stopping on the steep with barely a hesitation, I felt at ease exploring and getting lost.  The colors surrounding, the green pines popping off the grey blue canvas sky, all came together in a masterful art piece that was visually intoxicating.

As I continued my journey to get lost, I came to the realization about the  new Nissan Sentra.  It is not fast nor truly visually stunning, but she is nimble, quiet, and most importantly, very comfortable.  For any average drive those are important points, and this little car showed it was meant to be taken a bit more serious than I had.  Thinking it to be another eco-box 4-door sedan, it caught me off guard with everything from the amenities to the space inside, and the overall build quality being a massive improvement.  The looks as deceiving, a bit on par with Nissan’s other mid-range lineup, and showed that the designers were focusing on comfort.

While I would not say it to be the perfect ride for me every day, for my adventure it filled it perfectly and has become my road-trip vehicle of choice for quick trips like this.  The drive, not overly dramatic, was comfortable and allowed me to focus on the surroundings in this amazing small city.  It was easy to parallel park, and even simpler to drive.  The connection with the road was there, with enough feedback to still feel in control.  The Bluetooth, XM radio, and hands free controls, all packed into an economy friendly ride, showed that it was possible to be comfortable and feel safe without compromising on amenities.

As for Olympia, Washington, I was in love.  In the 32 hours, I had found the colors, smells, and culture I had been seeking throughout my travels, and all withing a few hour flight from Denver.  As I headed back to SeaTac, I found myself feeling like the United States was once again becoming home.

A special thank you to Nissan USA for providing the 2014 Nissan Sentra for the weekend trip. 

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