A train ride through time: Guadalupe’s charm, resilience, and a father’s 'magic'

There’s something about a small town that time seems to forget — and in the best possible way. Guadalupe, tucked quietly along Highway 1, is one of those places.

A town where the rhythm of life is slower, the food is richer, and history hums beneath every weather-worn facade and neon-lit storefront.

Growing up, my dad had a way of turning ordinary days into little adventures. With a house full of kids and a work schedule that didn’t leave much room for frills, he carved out time in the most heartfelt way: one-on-one “Daddy Days.”

These weren’t grand affairs, but rather simple local road trips in his battered old Datsun pickup — windows down, radio humming, and the Central Coast waiting for us like a well-worn storybook.

Sometimes we’d wind through the winding oak-lined roads to Zaca La