August Grover escape

When we were kids, August meant two weeks at Grover Hot Springs in the Sierras.   We -- well, mostly my father -- would pack up the orange VW camper and get the hell out of Fogust. Snug in our Westfalia, we 5 would cross the Golden Gate and escape the misery of that persistently foggy month that precedes San Francisco's true summer, which arrives like a charm every year with the return to school in September.

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