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Yuba City: shall I compare thee to a summer's day I passed not-so-long-ago? Little did I realize, as I was driving north past Williams on I-5 last July that I was but a scant few miles from the bucolic paradise of Yuba City. I was in desperate haste to extricate myself from the confines of the Sacramento/San Joaquin Valley, whose heat and haze had enveloped me for the last several hundred miles like some gigantic, uh....body cavity. You see, coming from Santa Barbara as I do, I thought I had but little need for air-conditioning in my vehicle. The mild epithets I cast across those dusty fields are as nothing when set alongside the withering sarcasm you can expect to receive from certain other contributors to the ongoing friendly regional rivalry we call Folly in California. I always used to get Yuba City confused with Tuba City, which is located, I think, in Arizona, and possesses perhaps an even-more-unpleasant summer climate.
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