The Night Seems To Fade, But The Moonlight Lingers On, There Are Wonders For Everyone, The Stars Shine So Bright, But They're Fading After Dawn

--"Kingston Town", UB40

With the rising price of gas, I've had to give up one of my favorite simple pleasures. I love driving, especially when there's no destination in mind. I love the sense of freedom it affords and I love the feeling of timelessness. When you don't need to be anywhere specific, but get to see a lot in the span of a few hours, that's akin to happiness for me. Ever since I got my driver's license, I've always thought of driving as something someone does for fun and not as a chore. It's like I told Miss Vespa, "You need to get your license as soon as possible. Then you need to get yourself a proper car so you can go far and away whenever you want."

I know I've written about it before, but my favorite drive in the whole world is taking PCH at night up from Santa Monica to Oxnard. It's a ridiculous, pointless drive. It's forty miles up and forty miles back, and is an extreme waste of gas. But I used to drive it consistently all the same. I mean--it was never a weekly trip. If I were to average it out, I may have taken it once a month for the last fifteen years. It was something I did when I was upset or sad, or plain had to get my mind off of whatever was troubling me at the time. I never told anyone when I was going on it. That may have been half of the fun, nobody knowing where and when I was going. I also never told anyone I had been on it until a few days later. It was my deal. It was my private getaway. In fact, it was only recently that I ever took anyone else on these sojourns, which was only because her school (Pepperdine) was along the route. It made for an interesting rest stop along the way, as the view from there is gorgeous. Yet, for the most part, whenever I did drive it, I drove all eighty miles of it alone.


the place I long to be

Here's the thing--the reason I like the journey through this passage isn't because of where I ultimately end up. Oxnard is nice and all, but I've only stayed long enough to have a meal there once or twice. I've certainly never stayed overnight. Nope, the reason I like the journey is because of the experience. People are always in a rush to get where they're going. They always seem to complain how long everything takes to get to. Me? I've been frazzled by rush hour traffic before. I've even honked at a discourteous driver in my time. However, for the most part I just like being out on the road. I like the feeling of movement beneath and around me. I like the sense I'm going somewhere and nowhere in particular at the same time. I've even gotten in the habit of going especially far on my lunches just to have more time in the car. The trip from Santa Monica to Oxnard has never been about getting to Oxnard as quickly as possible. It's always been about seeing the stars reflecting off the Pacific Ocean just so. It's always been about feeling the wind rushing through the open windows of my car or, when I was lucky, through the open air of Jennifer's convertible borrowed expressly for making this drive. It's always been about finding that just right CD to blast through the curves and crannies of PCH as it winds its way up the coast. It's always been about finding myself by losing myself there.

It makes me sad that the cost of gas has made it prohibitively expensive to take this trip as often as I like. Saving money doesn't seem worth it when marked against the idea of losing something so natural to me. It's not the last time I make the drive--not by far. But I know somehow that it'll never quite go back to the days when I took off on the spur of the moment to clear my head. When I do make the drive in the next few months, I'm sure it'll be just as good. It'll feel wonderful to be back on that particular.

I just know it will never be the same again.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers