I’m driving to Calistoga today, on my own, in a rented Hyundai.  I don’t mind the typically grumpy treatment when I pick up my coffee at Little Flower because I’m happy!  I’m excited!  I’m off!

I back into another car in the parking lot.  Totally my fault.  No damage, but still…is this a bad sign?  Can’t be because I don’t believe in signs

I don’t believe in signs

I don’t believe in signs

50 MILES NORTH OF LOS ANGELES (Pyramid Lake):

No traffic getting out of LA.  The lake below is deep blue/green and uninviting, like a thing that wishes to be left alone.

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN 50 AND 100 MILES FROM LA (Gorman):

An Antique Mall is sandwiched between a Liquor Store and a 76 gas station.  It has a collection of human bones from old science classrooms.

A complete hand

A complete foot

A woman’s spine and hip bones

I wish I had $450 for that hand.  It’s actually lovely.  Here’s the bathroom:

100 MILES NORTH OF LOS ANGELES (Taft Highway):

It looks like the middle of nowhere from the 5 freeway, but its actually a busy crossroads where several highways peel off in all cardinal directions heading who knows where.

150 MILES NORTH OF LOS ANGELES (Twisselman):

Bleak.

Someone has fenced off a small area with concertina wire.  I have no idea why.  Thousands of tiny insects cover my parked car.  Do they bite?

Answer: Yes

200 MILES NORTH OF LOS ANGELES (Coalinga):

There is an landing strip here called Harris Ranch Airstrip.  I saw a helicopter land.  I saw a small plane take off.  It’s always breathtaking to watch an airplane liftoff, even a very small one.  How is such a thing possible?

It smells like grilled meats here.

250 MILES NORTH OF LOS ANGELES (Rest Stop):

Oh, Rest Stops.  Why do I love you so much?  I would ode about it, but I need to get back on the road.

300 MILES NORTH OF LOS ANGELES (Westley):

Dusty.

350 MILES NORTH OF LOS ANGELES (Highway 12):

Still California.  But somehow not.  When did my visual definition of California change?

400 MILES NORTH OF LOS ANGELES (Napa):

I recognize the way the light slants.  I know the rolling bank of fog on the horizon.  These things sunk into my bones all those many years ago…