Road Trips

Let me paint you a picture.

Between the bright blue sky and lush green grass, two tons of metal with our fragile skin and porcelain teeth inside, propels down a cliff at 70 miles per hour. Wrapping around a mountain, leaving dust behind. All that weight, magnetically hanging on. The windshield is so dirty, our speed is brushing the rock wall with clouds of gravel and wind. Out the window is a 1,900 ft drop, separated by a 2 ft guard rail. We’re sitting in this car together, for the next six hours. We found each other, by some chance and some technology. Somehow we agreed to meet, at a certain time, at a certain place and for a certain fee. It just so happens, I’m going where you’re going or at least close enough. Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll have something to talk about.

I lied about the picture.

Usually, a picture is a single moment in time. It doesn’t matter of what or who or why, but a picture can only contain one visual memory. What I put together for you was a collage, mosaic, mural even. I could probably describe every turn and straight of the 101. But, it’s the composition of each 296 mile trip, North and South, that I want to share. One big well balanced portrait just won’t cut it this time.

The curves and elevations of these trips represent the complicated side of things. The times that we let people down. When we decided to give up on old lives, for new ones. Moments you wished were private. Being seconds away from someone you haven’t seen in months. The flats and straights stand for the simplicities we cherish. Cozy naps in the warm sun. Free weed. The affirmation from a stranger, that you have great taste in music. These beautiful minutes and seconds are only captured spontaneously, by people we may never see again. What a grand tradition. I don’t dare to question this nomadic ritual, because no mounds of rationality can compare to just a spark of magic.

As travelers we leave so much of ourselves in the people we encounter on our journeys. Our best jokes, our outlandish stories, our somber defeats, our beloved conquests, and our most sacred of secrets. Who are these people , who receive these gifts? Who are we to each other once the ride is over? I hope where ever they are now, they understand I was listening as much as I was talking.