1 May, 2015 - First road trip with my new car.
Palmdale. That’s right, we’re going to Palmdale, CA.
I’m dictating to you because I’m driving, and I’m on my first road trip with the first car I’ve had in 10 years.
Never needed one, not in The City.
I paid for this car, and it’s mine, but I don’t feel like i own it.
A few days ago, I paid $350 for a parking space in a garage six long mission district blocks from my apartment, a real bargain in San Francisco. I committed to spending $350 a month for a parking space, so I guess this thing is really mine.
I’m driving now, I’m dictating, and I’m thinking. It’s a cute little car and I’m ready to feel like it’s mine. The only way I know how to proceed is to take this car - my car, my little Honda - on as many road trips as I can. My Honda civic duty.
Nobody is sitting next to me in my car, as nobody often does. I’m alone, and I am dusting myself off, finding my groove. That breakup wasn’t easy, but it was right.
The only relationship I want right now is with my car and California.
I’m here, behind the wheel, on the Pear Blossom Highway in the California desert, feeling right at home. I’m on my way to Palmdale to do my laundry and I want to remember why I’m here.
The pear blossom highway is littered with stories, and this one is mine.
I bought a car so I could drive to a new job at a startup outside of San Francisco, but the world had other plans. One week after driving my new little car to my big new startup gig, it closed. Kaput. Everyone lost their jobs.
I bought this car to take myself to work, and one week later I discovered there wasn’t anywhere to go. I was left with no job, one car, and one overpriced parking space six long blocks away from my apartment.
A day later, after learning there wasn’t a job, the washer and dryer in my building broke. When the washer and dryer broke in my building, I cried. That was yesterday. I need clean clothes, but I’m not sure what for. Clean clothes lead to feeling human, and yesterday I sensed I might be losing myself. Today I am driving, I am dictating my story to you, and I am found.
Everything was broken. Or so it seemed.
That was yesterday, when everything was broken, and today, right now, I’m driving and dictating to nobody. Nobody but you. Let’s be mindful, be in the moment, the moment I’m in with you, now.
Let’s fix things. See things. Go places, strange places and little towns. I’m with my car, you’re with us both, and together
we’re in a relationship with California. we’ve got a ton of laundry in the trunk, and a folding beach chair.
We’re going to Palmdale to do laundry. It will take us 9 more hours, we’re taking the infamous Pear Blossom Highway, and it will change us for all time.
