When I was a girl, my dad always tried to teach me about cars.  He pointed to what this thing was and he explained how it worked.   And I remember none of what he tried to teach me.  I remember looking at his tan, scarred hands, that grime under the nails that would never come out.  I can close my eyes and smell the mix of diesel fuel and cigarette smoke. That was the smell of my dad after a long honest day's work in the shop.  The literal blue collar with his name stitched across his chest.

We are here to help but giving you a visual tour of visiting Santa Monica Pier and a travel guide with tips and photography.

Highlights from JD's travels in Greece including watching the traditional dances, touring the Greek islands soaking in the culture.