« Pear State | /words/ | totally awesome »

July 10, 2005 11:16 PM

driving

(there was a time, long ago, in a room with two tall windows, drapes shuttered tightly, when I sat on the phone into the wee hours with Liz, bot of us worrying about girls and worrying about boys. As the hours grew later, I rested my eyes, only later awakening to the sound of her voice in the phone, wondering how I was doing. "Driving. Just Driving." I said.)

Sometimes, I just need to drive. Time alone, the open road, all that stuff. I always assume that I'll use that solitary time alone to ponder all the things in the world, and solve all of my pressing emotional problems, or at least figure out what kind of a job I want to have when I grow up. But in reality, I either turn the music up real loud and open all of the windows, or I call all of my friends whose voices the internet is never quite able to give me.

I drove down the 280, ever my favorite road, towards LA or somewhere. It didn't matter where I was going, I just needed to be in motion. I got sidetracked and ended up driving all around my old neighborhood in San Jose. So many new buildings, new condo complexes, and chain stores. It was a little sad and suburban, but also reassuring in some time-goes-on sort of way. Greg's & my old house was still there, and looking nice. Someone even planted bushes/hedges in the obvious troughs that always wanted us to deposit plants or flowers or something green along the front walkway. It is good for me to remember that there were good things about living down there, living that life of tragic suburban isolation. It's even sadder to realise that there's really no part of that life in me anymore. No element of my daily routine. No friends that still come for coffee. All is so different now.

At some point, after looking for biodiesel in San Jose, I drove back up to SF, picked up elly, a yellow dunny, some Ritual coffee, and headed south again. The sun was waning in the sky as Miles Davis & Gil Evans played in the car. We rolled down Valencia, merging onto the 280-secret-exit-from-town that I love so much, elly started to read to me. My parents read to me extensively when I was a kid. I think it's one of the reasons (in addition to being an only child) that I just consumed books back then. elly reading to me probably triggers some pleasant childhood memory, because I enjoy it so much.

I took her to see the old house (two trips! one day!), and then we headed over the 17 to Santa Cruz and dinner at Saturn Cafe. Dinner was yummy at this dive of a destination. We've totally made a ritual out of it, and there was some quality wandering down the crowded streets, filled with people enjoying life and the night, and generally being alive. Good stuff.

Then, whim and fancy set in. We decided to drive to Big Sur. Bear in mind that at this point, it was 11:30 at night, and Big Sur is at least 1.5 hours the wrong way from Santa Cruz. This meant at least a 3 hour return trip. It was nice out, the stars were shining. There was no reason not to go. The route down Hwy 1 was open and beautiful. The stars twinkled brighter and brighter as we left civilization farther and farther behind. Finally we stopped on a turnoff and leaned against the car watching the beauty of the Milky Way fading into its own reflection in the Pacific. The racoons reminded us that we were grounded there in nature, but I wondered if we might jsut fall off the edge of the earth right then and there.

elly read more to me the rest of the way back North, getting me more and more engrossed in a very San Francisco novel. I can't wait to go hear the rest of it! As we drove the very last leg of the route home, up the 101 at 4:30am, how could we not stop for some donuts?

450+ miles. Contentment. Sunrise bedtime. I don't want a 9-5 job.