donger need food.

72 degrees. Or, The Wondrous Feeling of A Beautiful Drive Home in Northern California

There are moments in my life when all else falls by the wayside, when I am living strictly for those precious few moments in time and space, when nothing past or future really matters. Driving up the 280 as it winds its way through the western side of the peninsula, I find myself in one of those moments. Left side windows cracked open in my resurrected G ride, Smashing Pumpkins silently wailing away on the stereo (gotta remember to fix that blown rear speaker), and the air is a crisp and balmy 72 degrees and falling. The sun is off to the high left now, casting a wonderful side glow to all the passing cars and brown/green hillsides. I love this time of day...my cousin hated dusk -- said it always reminded him of death/termination/end. I loved it. Long shadows, red orange glow, cooling temperatures, and sidelit architecture. And some people tell me if you are lucky enough, you'll catch a brief glimpse when the sky turns momentarily green (or was it purple?) as the sun passes through bands of pollution/ozone/nitrogen/whatever. I have yet to see it.

But it's moments like these that make it all worth while...a carpet of clouds slowly draping over the hillsides to my left, as the cool onshore flow moves into the valley. Somewhere up in those hills Skyline Blvd cuts its swath through the trees, filled with fog and cover -- a dangerous road during times like these -- but fun to drive on a nice day. It's times like these that keep me from ever wanting to leave this place, this state. As my foot plunges the weee pedal further into the carpet, forcing a deep growl from the tired old two liter air pump under the hood (200 thousand miles tired) I think about all those similar moments long gone by...

That cool day in October out in the middle of abso-fuckin-lutely nowhere in Joshua Tree National Monument when the silence of the desert was just unbelievably ear crushing I was totally stunned.

Or motoring with the top down in Avenue of the Giants, where all we could see around us was trees -- towering taller than a bunch of high rent condominiums

And that visit to the Imperial Sand Dunes, looking out across the sandy hills as the low setting sun added its orange texture to the world.

And Hwy 25 just south of Hollister, when Herna and I lost ourselves for about 7 hours on a detour gone wrong, but found ourselves in the middle of some of the most amazingly beautiful areas we had ever seen (not to mention some of the biggest mommahonker cows you could ever imagine)

Then there's those many March days in San Diego that I could never forget... walking through the streets of my old stomping grounds (coming back from tennis practice or walking home from school), patches of the brightest white clouds in the sky (and not a hint of rain), backed by the deepest blue sky I had ever seen. And a moderate 72 degree breeze chills you just enough where the sun overhead is not enough to make you break a sweat...

Yes, California would be a tough place for me to leave some day. I hope I remain lucky enough to enjoy it for years to come. I don't think I could deal with the crap of a day back to work after one of the best vacations I've ever had (really) if there wasn't all of this to keep me sane.

posted by VirtualErn @ 10:01 PM

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