black chevrolet

(1) Shiny new guardrail (2) Sagebrush-coated foothill (3) an aqua blue floor fading away to emptiness for a million miles. I pull over onto the shoulder next to the guardrail, cut the motor, and set the bike up against first gear. I swing my legs over the guardrail, and perch on one of its wooden supports.

There is so little to see here, looking out the mouth of a gigantic funnel, yet so much to see. I'm in a box with three sides: a mountain wall to my right and to my left, the highway bottling up between them to my rear. But ahead, openness...these outstretched arms of the Santa Monica range, yearning after infinity. Infinity as a plain of blue, tainted at its landward by seaweed. Blue. The color of loyalty (solidity, unchangeableness). The color of the everlasting sky and sea. The ocean never changes. The arms of the mountains may crumble and fade away but the ocean will always be the same.

Stretches of smooth water snake their way across the face of the Pacific, slithering to nowhere. Blue sky, blue sea, unfathomable depth up and down. The erosion and rubble and whispering of the land fades to the background, retreating under the silence of the double blue infinitude crowding into the canyon's open arms...A black Audi convertible hums past, downhill at high rpm. I watch it idly, as it spins and hums away around the smooth gray curves lowering to the ocean. Sunlight sparkles off its chrome. This is California, I think to myself, a place of sand and sage and rubble that we escape from by climbing into our shiny black Audi and humming our way down to the clean blue infinitude and letting that infinitude blow in through our hair and dissolve the mess and grindings we carry in our world.