black chevrolet

30 mph, wind spilling over the windshield into my face (I didn't realize there were so many hacienda style houses along Foothill Road above the bustle and clatter of urban Ventura) a full-size Dodge truck crosses the street ahead of me (I bet those houses are expensive. They sure are pretty.) a manhole cover slaps my suspension briefly (I will have to bring my sketchpad up here some time.) the sun glitters off the ocean in the distance and large black chevrons point me around a sweeping curve (Funny, I'm accumulating a mental roster of places to bring my sketchpad to, without ever actually getting any drawing done). Clouds are building on the faraway mountains (is it going to rain tomorrow?)

The world is a beautiful place, seen from astride a motorcycle. It's only when I stop and park and leave it and go away to submerge again in daily strains and insoluble problems that the world becomes ugly and twisted...