roadtrip rants! (i)

So, I took a roadtrip over July 4th weekend down to Palm Springs (again) to visit my friends from high school and whatnot. Since I was making the trip alone (decided to leave Bri at home because I thought it'd be kinda a bachelor thing -- though then the other three guys with gfs brought their wimminfolk -- GRR!), I was bored outta my mind and bought a little tape recorder to babble into on my way down.

The following is a transcript of the more interesting parts of my rants. Actually, I only cut out like 20% of it at most, so the majority of the rants are here.

This is the southbound stuff. I'll transcribe and post up the northbound tomorrow or something.

=====

On State Route 152 East, stuck in traffic:

"okay, so the car in front of me is impossibly slow. i mean, even in a traffic jam you shouldn't be this fucking slow."

"overall, this hasn't been the most successful trip so far."

==

Why i'm doing this:

"i'm driving south, and it's a 10 hr drive, and i'm gonna be bored outta my mind. so once i heard there was gonna be a traffic jam, i was like okay, i gotta do something, keep myself occupied. so, heh, this is the idea -- i'm gonna, make a recording. y'know, just kinda talk. because, a lot of times when i drive i get these thoughts that i wanna write down, but obviously i can't."

==

Still on 152 East:

"Hey, it's finally moving, good. It's really pretty land here. It's like... green, fields. Kinda this little minivalley between the central valley and the sea. And you have, those golden mountains of california, those famous mountains of gold, with the grass. So there's all these plants growing everywhere. It's green on the ground, gold on the mountains, blue in the sky. Thing is, in the spring, it's just unbelievably beautiful. (Uh oh, we're slowing down again.) In the spring, all the mountains are just green like you wouldn't believe.

"The thing about green is that it tends to be really early in the year. And around then it's still raining. It's just unbelievably beautiful. You could not believe how beautiful the green can be under the grey sky. (Holy shit, it's totally jammed up. I wonder what's going on?)"

==

Damon's road rage: "Man, the car in front of me is pissing me off. Go a little faster, huh, you fucking chain-smoking bastard. Fuck."

==

STILL on 152 East:

"So this girl ahead of me just flicked her cigarette out the window and it totally reminded me of, um, Imogen Slaughter. Wow, that's the first time I've ever said it aloud. It's always in my head. Oh man, how long am I gonna be stuck here? I'm gonna turn on my computer and see if I can get reception."

"Fuck this! Okay, we're gonna take the 101 down (laugh) and then go back on the 5 sometime later. Fuck this, man, it's not even fucking moving! Fuck this, people, fuck the road!"

==

On US-101 South:

"Okay, so after wasting 20 minutes not even moving I'm going to go down to the 198 and go from there."

"The hidden track at the end of, end of Behind Blue Eyes always reminds me of, again, Imogen. Fuckin' obsessed or something. But you know, it's a cool character. I wish I'd thought it up. Okay maybe not. Have too much fun playing with it. With her. Playing with her. ROLEPLAYING with her."

"Well, this isn't exactly how I expected my road trip to be. One fucking traffic jam after another."

"So, going down the 101 instead. Land of... y'know. Farms in the middle, mountains with the green oak trees. Kinda windy. 25. highway 25 to Hollister. Wonder if that'll take me over to the 5? But, I don't think so. Probably some tiny-ass little road. Even if it did, I'll probably be stuck on it til like midnight. Maybe I'll get a motel out in the middle of nowhere tonight, we'll see. Well, I wanted to drive, I'm driving."

"27 miles to Salina, 154 to San Luis Obispo, 354 to Los Angeles. 6 hours to Los Angeles, if I stay 60 mph. Which I won't."

"i've been down this road before. just drove and drove. eventually I ended up in the middle of nowhere and it was so dark. pulled off the road, turned off the lights and sat there and. i wanted to watch the highway move in the dark. the pinpricks of light that are the headlights streaking across like electrical impulses down a nerve. but as it turned off, as i turned the lights off i felt this overpowering sense of ...aloneness? and it was almost fear, fear of being alone in the dark, primal fear from the time when we were all apes and darkness was a dangerous time."

"here comes Y road. why would you name it y? oh. why would you name it y, that's why."

"the hills kinda close in here, golden. they always remind me of a lion's pelt."

"maybe this isn't such a bad experience. it'll take longer, but i'll get there. i'm takine 198 and i'll get there."

"now we're on this part of the 101, passing through eucalyptus trees. the first time i was here, it was night, and the moon was shining down, and it was just ... ghostly, these trees standing straight, very straight."

"by the way, i fucking hate commuters."

"huge black hawk just went overhead and almost made me crash!"

"guy behind me is tailgating me. i'm sorely tempted to just stick my hand out the window and flip him off. fucking commuters. i can see him in the rearview mirror, him and his scowl and his i'm so cool goatee. yeah, you know what, guy? you're not cool. you're a fucking idiot."

"it's been a long time since i've seen the sea."

"you have the road, and you have the trees that are so tall on both sides. the clouds overhead are kinda these undefined, foggy-ish clouds overhead. marine layer coming in."

"i wonder if you can even hear me mumbling?"

"cloudy day over the pacific. i miss the pacific suddenly. i wouldn't say i grew up near the ocean, but somehow it seems like i've never been that far from the ocean. it's always been within reach, within sight somehow, gleaming in the afternoon. i'm only maybe 20 miles away but it seems so much farther behind a mountain."

"i can't see the ocean. i'm so close and i can't see it. everything here's kinda grey, but that luminous grey when the sun's close but not quite shining. the mountains are ghosts."

"somehow talking isn't quite the same as thinking what i wanna talk about. i always think of things i want to talk about, or write down when i get home, but i never do. i think it's something about the movement, the scenery, and the music in the background -- it affects you."

"there's some sense of disappointment when we get to salinas, which sounds like such a pretty name, you think of farms and ocean so close -- i can smell the sea in the air. but you get there and what you see is fucking auto dealers."

"i love singing along to this song. (sings along to in your house)"

"i have this intense longing for the central valley. does that sound weird? the central valley isn't something you'd think you'd long for. it's so long and dry, like this chunk of heartland transplanted into california. but... because i was shut away from it for so long -- i can't see it, i can see the mountains dividing me from it."

"i can see this little clump of clouds that looks like those desert clouds. those very defined, piled-high, textured clouds.

"i remember in san diego, in june, you'd see over the mtns, right there over the desert, you'd see these clouds ready to roll in."

"the clouds to the south are getting a lot bigger now."

"funny, at night you couldn't see the mountains, you couldn't see them at all. it looked like i could drive forever."

"that cloud is definitely growing. awesome. it grew up from a little baby cloud."

"i just wanna say i fucking HATE american SUVs. they all have those fucking dark windows in the back. i'm trying to get ahead of this long line of cars, literally just hopping them one by one. it's agonizing."

"i'm finally at the head of the line. no more cars in front of me. sweet. it's a good feeling."

"holy shit, like 60 harleys just went by."

"i wonder what it's like to be a trucker? you probably don't get a lot of action driving 20 hrs a day. but even so, there's something a little glamourous about it, isn't there? i used to wonder what it'd be like to just drive all the time. do that for a living."

"there's so many hotspots on the I-5. interesting thought is that, if i'd been an english major, if i'd gone to an english PhD program (of course i'd have no future whatsoever) -- but, at the same time, you know, i could just... i could just move around. and in that case, i could just, literally, go on the road, me and my laptop, and just drive. course someone will have to pay for the gas but that's what the stipend is for right? do they get stipends? if they do, that's the way to do it."

"i'm playing that one by one hop game again."

"it's starting to look a little bit like southern california. bushes everywhere. in norcal you have the long grass, and the oak trees. in socal you have a lotta eucalyptus, you have a lotta grasses, and you have a lotta bushes. the farther south you go, the more bushes you have."

" 'she serves him mashed potatoes, and she serves him peppered steak. with corn. she pulls her dress over her head and lets it fall to the floor.' i find that so strangely sexy. i think it's that ... you can see the image they paint out for you. whup, there's my exit. goodbye 101, i'll see you in a coupla days."

==

On 198 East:

"oh my god, i gotta say, this place is beautiful. holy shit, next services 53 miles. it's just this winding 2 lane highway over these golden fields. a hawk flying there. pay attention to my driving now...

beautiful.

golden mountains, blue skies, white clouds, black road. colors, can you imagine it? and off the side of the road, here and there, right here there's a tiny little patch of fruit trees. beautiful.

dusting of white on the mountains too. chalk maybe? like the sort of mountains you see the windmills across. but this a road right through them. you know, i'm kinda glad there was a huge traffic jam on 152, otherwise i woulda never come here, ever."

"how can i put into words, these sights, these mountains? rounded against the sky, which is... not quite perfectly blue. i think the last time i saw something remotely like this, this sort of desolate emptiness -- i mean there are no other people on this road, just me and the two cars in front of me, nothing behind me, either. there's just nothing here. it's almost no sign of civilization, but not quite. you see fences, and telephone poles, and electricity poles, but just no houses. just land, rolling hills. well, there's a barn over there. and these mountains. they're rounded, and old looking, and the sky above... i'm saying the same things over and over again, but the thing is, when i'm speaking it, it's the same, always the same, but when i'm seeing it, it the changing surroundings.

"sky mountain road. blue-white, yellow-white, black-yellow-white."

"desolate road. unbelievable, it's just so beautiful. up ahead the sky cleared up a little. the color's just amazing when i look around. gonna drop the windows a bit."

"cows."

"ah, human civilization. one truck offroad raising clouds of dust behind it. farmer sitting inside, arm out the window."

"you know, i think these places might be abandoned. that might be why it's so silent here. just mile upon mile of land, and corrugated steel structures standing there, slightly rusted from time, or neglect, disuse. this is prime writing material."

"amazing, this is something i need to talk about when i get home. how... everything came together for me to come through this land -- OH YUCK, a bug just smacked into my window, like CRACK -- hey, a roof that caved in on a barn."

"waaa, truck on the other side! (was trying to pass)"

"can't remember if i've ever been a place like this. literally deserted two-lane highway through farmlands. cows. barely any human civilization. me and three other cars. i don't think i've ever been in a place like this."

"no turnoffs! none! how do you get to these farms? no wonder now one comes here."

"top of the hill, going down this winding road, and there's this panorama of golden mountains. and the fucker behind me just passed me on the double-yellow line, fucking bitch."

"here you can see nothing but sky. of course, i had a nightmare where i could see nothing but sky, and then i fucking fell off the roof. gotta be careful."

"fuck, this jet just screamed by! like right by! i'm really high up, actually. i took a look, really really high up."

"i am off the mountain, kinda in the central valley-thingie. road just got straight and long. two lane highway. farms w/ trees on both sides. me, driving. i have this urge to drive in the middle of the road."

"so i just passed this sign saying priest valley station. grill, bar, dance hall. sounds like something out of a western. just passed it. big red barn."

"i estimate the temperature at about 80 right now outside..." (actually it was more like ...90)

"estimate temperature at about 85."

"hot wind that blows here. hills here, road between, valley to the side. pine trees, actually. there's generally a mixed character to this land. oak trees. feels a little bit like northern california, a little bit like southern, a little bit like mountain, a little bit like desert, a little bit like central valley, not much like coast."

"i wish i could fly."

"estimate temperature at about 90." (more like 100)

"like a roller coaster here, up and down and curving all around. road surface is very smooth, that nice dark asphalt. curving, not much, you can stay 50-60 mph. and it bumps up and down."

"crossing the diablo range. all these mountains rearing up around me, not quite the same rounded ones but these... folded now. there's all these places where landslides have happened, and you can see the scars where the plants and the topsoil have fallen away to reveal the gaunt skeleton of the mountain."

"just caught my first glimpse of the central valley of california. unmistakeable. it's the end of the mtns. the opening, the pass. this two lane highway's almost about to meet the I-5. i'm excited about it. i just went over a hill, and i can see it now, and it's flatness, just flatness as far as the eye can see."

"civilization! cars, trucks. houses, stores. gonna make a stop before i get on the I-5. i am in coalinga, that's the name of the city. i'm in a suburbs. after the desolation, suburbs seem like massive civilization. it's amazing how big little towns seem when you don't know where the hell you are, for one. where am i?"

"i-5 junction, i found it."

"making a pit stop in coalinga's mcdonald's. ice cream sounds good."

==

on 33 east toward I-5:

"gonna try to pass now.

...

holy shit, that was thrilling. second and a half to spare to get back on my side of the road. passing cars, fucking cars that weren't letting me pass. you know, you should slow down when people try to pass you on a 2-lane highway, but these bastards weren't. whoo... adrenaline rush, nice."

"almost getting on the 5. these roads, they don't bend, they go on forever. can't see the other side of the central valley. i'm on one side, crossing it, sort of, going across it. heading east toward the I-5, then turning south. colors, golden, under a blue sky. greyblue sky actually. i think this is where i get the inspiration for all my hick characters from."

"definitely been an interesting trip. i keep going places i don't expect to go, and that's the whole definition of a roadtrip, right? one-person roadtrip. i'm glad it's one-person. sometimes it's a little boring but that's what the recorder's for, right? one person, driving, going places i never thought i'd go, and never thought about going. and that's the thing. these places, they've always been there, but i've never gone or thought of going, and if not for the ... series of coincidences that led to me going there."

"the I-5, i can see it in the distance, moving. and i'm racing towards it."

"i'm glad i did it. i'm gonna be very tired next week, but right now it doesn't matter, you know?"

==

On the I-5 South:

"finally getting on I-5. mother road, right? los angeles, 191 miles."

"every time i go on the 5, i keep waiting for the mtns at the west side of it to fall away, but they never do. i'm always disappointed by it. but the 5 always follows it, so they never go away. one of these days i'll go on the 99, which goes right through the center, which is very different."

"bales of hay, off to my left. i can see fields as far as the eye can see, all these different colors. some are golden, some are green, some are reg-tinged -- reg? red."

"cruise control is a wonderful thing."

"i find myself kinda wishing that it'd be night already. oh look at that, endless plain. feel like maybe if i drove east far enough i'd end up in illinois, indiana, something like that."

"174 miles to los angeles."

"62 miles to bakersfield, 163 to los angeles."

"this part of the central valley looks like a desert. bushes, no trees, everything low, very flat."

"it occurs to me how unattractive your average middle aged american man is. they get old and they grow these ugly-ass scrawny goatees that they think look good but don't. wear big grease-stained t-shirts over their bulging beer bellies... yuck.

"here comes one trying to pass me. hope you enjoy life with your ugly ass FAT wife and your ugly ass FAT belly!

"here comes another fat american in his huge stroke! f-250 heavy duty power stroke. POWER STROKE. if that isn't compensation i don't know what is."

"152 miles to los angeles."

"44 miles to bakersfield, 145 to los angeles."

"i think i might prefer to be on this road at night. seems like people aren't in quite such a hurry at night. seems like... might be nicer too. not so bright. not so much rushing."

"134 miles to los angeles, 33 to bakersfield."

"128 miles to LA."

"okay, so it's 7:20 and i'm getting going again from buttonwillow. i estimate... 4-5 hours left of driving depending how i find my way, who much traffic there is, stuff like that."

"35 miles from the grapevine, crossing the mountains."

"sunsets look somehow familiar to me. sun dusky through the clouds. barely glimpsed through the clouds."

==

At Buttonwillow:

"$2.09 a gallon. pretty good price for around here. i found a starbucks! thinking of going there. getting online. but it's 7:30pm. fuck. if i get online for an hour, it'll be... 8:30pm. and then, 4 hours on top of that, i'll be there around midnight."

"so i just left starbucks, and it's 8:30pm. kinda late, but that's okay. just got online in the middle of nowhere (laugh). this town smells like shit, literally. to the west, the sunset is just lighting up the sky, in bands of red."

something typed at starbucks:

ElementalShiva: that's the thing about this drive

ElementalShiva: you only ever see half of it on any one run

ElementalShiva: cuz the sun sets before you get to the other end.

==

On the I-5 South again:

"it just occurred to me how utterly appropriate it is that i'm driving at this hour, on this date. independence day. this is my own freedom, driving this far. this is how i'm spending my holiday, one person, alone, driving, on and on and on. freeway's a little emptier now, so that's nice. yeah. los angeles, 123 miles."

"different place here, at night. i think... this is why i wanna drive. when i go on vent drives at night, this is why i wanna keep going. not the distance during the day, which is glaring, and loud, and people just wanna get there. no sense of relaxation. at night, with the dusking, i guess the harsher features of the land fade away. you don't see it so much anymore. it's just this blurring, streaking land. light fading from the sky. pink fading from the west. the horizon is... ringed in this smoke-grey-purple-violet color that i can't quite describe. but it's everywhere. a ring around the horizon, except in the west where it's duskier, a rose color. sky above is still blue.

"and somehow, in this light, distances seem... shorter, should i say? not really shorter, just different. doesn't seem such a race to get to someplace. i don't care where i end up right now. i could drive forever. i have this urge to just drive south and south. past san diego, into mexico. never come back."

"there's a freedom from driving at night that isn't there during the day. times like this i realize how utterly similar to my father i am.

"this is my own personal freedom."

"now as night begins to fall in truth, i can see the shadows of the san bernadino mtns closing in. the end of the valley is not so far now. every single time, every single time i come here, i feel this sense of regret when i leave the valley. even if it was boring in the middle. even if it feels like it'll be endless. 'course this time the valley was shorter than it's ever been before, but same principles applies. i'm sad to leave it. because this is, this, right here, is what i love most about california, almost. maybe? i don't know.

"it's not the california you think of. it's not the sun and the sand and the beaches. but it's california nonetheless. a side of it most people don't think about. it's not even desert. it's farmland, green. open, free. roadtripping. it's the side you only know if you live here.

"i love these 18 wheeler trucks. they're like steel dragons, flowing along. all their lights lit up. across the top. the chimneys. the running lights. all those wheels spinning. the power of it, the speed."

"at night no one tries to go 100 mph, 90. everyone goes 80, just flows along."

"the high voltage lines arcing overhead, and you just wonder where they're coming from, where they're going. they're connected, you know, beginning to end, one end to the other. you don't know where the other end is, but. you pass under it here, briefly intersecting, and then -- pass."

"mosquito time. i can hear them splatting against the windshield."

"the highway's a little hypnotic, going on forever. here's the hill i remember, first hill out from the long decline from the valley. there's a certain feeling you get when you finally get through the grapevine. you swing around the last bit and all that's left behind you is mountains, and all that's left in front of you is valley. and you can see the road stretched out in front of you, straight as an arrow."

"exactly 100 miles to los angeles."

"you can see the freeway climbing into the mountains, a ribbon of red and white."

"i can see where I-5 bends into the mtns, strung out like pearls. always thought lights on a freeway at night, strung out across the land, looks like electricity on the nerve, impulses cruising across synapses."

"91 miles to los angeles."

"everything's barely more than shadows now. we're about to go through the mtns, and there's 99, coming in. 99's always fascinated me. i've never gone on it, only gone near it once when i was coming down on the train, once. always fascinated me how it splits off from the I-5, and now, just before the mtns, they come back together. it's like, in my mind, it's almost like highways have a life of their own, strange as that sounds."

==

I-5 South through the Grapevine:

"leaving the central valley now. one look behind, flatness all around. road splits up ahead. you can see the red to one side, the white to the other. spiraling up into the mountains into the mountains, moving. the red like so many bands flowing. the white seems to move slower. i think it's the angle. coming down the other side, like... a river, really, glittering and glistening, like sun off water."

"the mountains tall - the sky overhead, still faintly blue."

"it's always amazed me. 4 lanes on each side, wide shoulder on each side, 12 lanes' equivalent going over the mountains, right through it. don't have to go slower than about 60 mph. usual speed about 65-70. all these cars just surging over the mountain."

"what fascinates me about the highway at night is the anonymity of it. all cars from a distance are reduced to lights: taillights red, headlights white. and the thing is you don't know where they're coming from, where they're going. and somehow at night you realize this more than you would in the day, when you're pissed off at the sedan that just cut you off, of the truck that just blocked off your sight. at night you can't see anyway. you just follow taillights. and there's a... certain hypnotic quality to the road. you start wondering, the car in front of you, why are they down here, are they on vacation? are they a family? are they running from something, are they going towards something? are they happy, are they sad, all these questions that go through your mind.

"you feel a certainly continuity with the road, with those traveling with you. you feel this... certain... fellowship, i guess. not so different after all, fat americans, skinny asians, whatever. it's all the same. you're all going on the same road. different origins, different destinations, but for now, this one moment, you form a certain bond with them, these cars you travel with the car behind you, the car you travel behind, the one you've been behind for the last... 20 miles, 30 miles. there was a time when people couldn't walk 30 miles in a day."

"going through the pass now, tejon pass, 4044 feet."

"passing the lake right now, too dark, here there's a mountain lake, very beautiful during the day."

"i can see the glow of LA now, just over the mtns."

"full moon is rising over the mtns now -- it's not the glow of the city i saw, it was the glow of the moon. it's amazing, this big bloated orange thing. full moon tonight. rising. i'm catching glimpses as i pass through the mountains. me and my car, and these mountains, these shadows in the dark. the road under me. dashes and lines, spots of light."

"there it is, the city laid out before me. the LA basin. and the highway descending into it. you see the borders of it, the streets laid out like a grid. i don't like LA by day but by night it is beautiful."

"i remember going to universal studios with my parents. i miss my mom. we rode the ET ride. and that one part where you fly like ET, my mom was like, oh, so beautiful. and afterwards she was like, that was a good ride. and i don't know why, but that makes me sad and happy at the same time, so bittersweet.

"my mom always thinks she has a heart condition. she does have a weak heart maybe, but, she's afraid of strong rides, and... oftentimes, when we and my dad went and did things like that she'd just wait, like skiing, or whatever. and she goes with us because she loves us, you know, but it must be so boring for her. she's always like it's okay, it doesn't matter. but. it does."

"fireworks. there's fireworks over LA."

"the lights i saw earlier, it wasn't LA at all, it was just some podunk town in the middle of the mtns."

"moon is humongous in front of me, yellow turning to white. always surreal to think of how far i've come, from northern california to southern in the space of a single day, just a few hours. a hundred years ago, that'd be unthinkable."

"freeway 210 in 1.5 miles -- i'm about to leave I-5. hey, los angeles city limit, right here. i made it to LA. it's 9:47pm, friday."

==

On the I-210 East:

"9:48, goodbye LA, goodbye I-5, i'm heading east. back into the mtns that we so recently left, but i'm crossing it to the east.

"air's pretty cold outside. moon's unbelievably bright overhead. i bet if i turned off the lights i'd still be able to see."

"passing this beautiful church. got this spire that kinda juts out, and a cross hanging from it."

"passing a miller brewery. for some reason these factories, mills and refineries, breweries, they always look like miniature cities to me in the dark, and i like it. i like all the amber lights, lit up. especially the refineries -- because they have all these grates, or whatever. structures, what are they called. reinforcements? no. what is it. think think think think think, what is the word again? scaffolding!"

"this song reminds of that incredible moment in Y Tu Mama Tambien. that moment where she... turns on the jukebox. turns around. dances, and looks YOU in the eye, looks the camera in the eye. and all through the movie you wonder, what do these boys see in her? she's old, she's kinda horsefaced...gaunt. she's vulgar, she's controlling, she's not that great. she cries for no fucking reason, and she's fucking 16 year old boys. you see all of her, except for what they see.

"and then, that moment she turns around and looks you in the eye and dances -- you understand, suddenly, exactly what they see. she is... just. not beautiful, but gorgeous. and incredibly attractive. hard to explain."

"fireworks everywhere tonight. magic mtn, and i'm betting that disneyland down there."

==

On I-15 South:

"getting on 15 to barstow, san diego. maybe i'll go to san diego tonight. nah."

"leaving 210, going on 15. 10:41pm. 15 south, headed toward san diego, but not going there tonight."

"southern california, the night is clear. i find myself strangely homesick for san diego, because this freeway i'm on right now is the one we go on to everywhere in san diego. it's the san diego mother road, i guess. if i keep going on this road i'll pass right by my house. strange thought that some of these cars, maybe even most of them? are headed toward san diego. and some of them will pass my house. some of them might get off there. some of them are my neighbors -- but not anymore."

==

On I-10 East:

"leaving 15 for 10 east, headed for palm springs. 65 degrees in LA. not gonna be like this in palm springs."

"this freeway smells like cup noodles!"

"why do they put ads for strip clubs up on freeways? isn't that dangerous? i mean, wouldn't you totally stare at it? i know i did. i mean, it's like. has this woman up there with pink hair and her arms crossed over her chest, kinda leaning forward suggestively, and it says, "Pssst... FLESH." and then you keep staring cuz there's something next to that word FLESH and then you realize it says "psst, i'm at FLESH." turns out the club's name is Flesh. but by the time you figure that out, you've spent a good 3-5 seconds staring at it. and 3-5 seconds doesn't sound like a lot? but on a freeway going 80mph, that's a lot.

"so 3 seconds on a freeway going 80 mph is somewhere between 300-400 feet of distance."

"47 miles to palm springs. at the speed i'm going, another half an hour, maybe 40 minutes? not even, half an hour."

"36 miles to palm springs, i'm pulling off for a rest area. gotta piss. the moon is unbelievably bright. clear skies, white moon, shining down."

"okay, last push, almost there. off we go!"

==

Into the desert on I-10:

"i can see the shape of the mtns under the moon. occurs to me that palm springs might be a desert, but it's a pretty high desert. elevation isn't exactly low. i'd say at least 1000 ft up in the air. high desert indeed. dry and barren, palms, and these stark mountains."

"hard to explain how beautiful the mountains are, layered in the moonlight, which is like mist, falling from the sky. ones closer, dark. ones farther, light. and then they fade into the sky. you can't tell what the distance is, where they end."

"something about the desert makes it easy to go fast. i'm going 90mph and i don't even feel it. i gotta slow down. just a little longer."

"windmills in the desert, under the moon, with the shadow of the mountains behind it. stark sight, somehow desolate, lonely."

"palm springs city limits, 11:54pm, on friday."

"passed CHP going 80mph! (laugh) fortunately he already caught somebody but i'm gonna go slow now.

"and he just passed me doing like 90 or something! him, not me, i was doing barely 80. (laughing) HOLY SHIT.

"oh shit i am WATCHING him pulling someone over. fuuuuck me.

"he just pulled 2 people over at once. i don't know how i escape that. (laugh)"

==

Off I-10, on local highways:

"driving down the high desert, just past midnight, full moon shining down. mountains, shadows in the distance. me, ghost flowing over these lands. i turn off the lights, there'd be no light at all. i turn off the music, there'd be no sound at all. i'm almost there. all right."

"so, i've arrived. about, hm, 10, 11 or 12 hours from when i departed depending how you count it. been a long-ass drive. i'm at 85600 miles. i've driven 488 miles today, all detours, rest stops, whatever counted in. so here's me, signing off. catch you on the return trip."