The Lonely Road

I'll send the angels to watch over you tonight
And you send them right back to me
A lonely road is a bodyguard
If we really want it to be

-- From "Sleeping in Paris" by Rosanne Cash

Yesterday I climbed into the Jeep and went on a long overdue road trip, just me and my steel beast, 130 highway miles and lots and lots of thinking.

The reason for the trip was nothing earth shattering, just had to head up to the north side of Sacramento to attend some work related meetings.

Clocking in at just under three hours, it was a ghastly drive, not only because it lacks any sort of interesting things to see, but the stop and go traffic kept me on my toes most of the way.

I left plenty early to avoid commute traffic but had no luck. California's Highway 80 is a busy road no matter what time of day.

As I drove, dodging other cars, stepping quickly on my brakes for yet another slowdown, stopping to pay the toll on the Carquinez Bridge, and cursing under my breath, I yearned for a different sort of road trip.

Growing up in New Mexico, the ability to hop in the car for the sole purpose of a long thoughtful drive was something I took advantage of every chance I got.

While living in Albuquerque, sometimes I'd gas up the car and drive to Soccoro, only to turn around and drive home.

I can't lie to ya, Albuquerque to Soccoro isn't a visually interesting drive either, but once out of the city limits, it's a pretty easy road with hardly any traffic. I'd set the cruise control on 75, point 'er south in a straight line and let my mind work out the problems of the day.

Straight roads and very little traffic produce a very fine form of therapy.

My all time favorite drive and think road, however, is Highway 28 in southern New Mexico. The stretch of road from Las Cruces to La Union and back includes canopy of pecan trees arcing over the road, arboreal arms to embrace and hold me safe in case I need to cry.

I got a lot of thinking taken care of on Highway 28.

Not so much on California's highway 80. The thinking was more like, "uh, stopping again? Why? Oh please don't slam into me!"

But still, it was a road trip and there is something beautiful about me, my decade old Jeep, shuffle on the iTunes and a problem to work out in my mind.

Oh, by the way, something else happened while out there on the road.

First, this occurred:

Shocking, isn't it?

Then, from out of nowhere, this happened:

(No, mom, I wasn't driving almost 80 while taking a photograph of my odometer. Why do you ask?)

It's the first car I've ever owned from fresh off the lot to one hundred thousand miles. Sort of proud of my little Jeep.

And just because I'm feeling gratuitous, here's a quad cam shot of the Bay Bridge (because the Golden Gate gets all the love).

(Click for full size)

Ok, I'm wandering off the point here. Let's tie this whole thing together, and get back to where we began.

I discovered today that any road, even a commute time busy three lane highway in Northern California can be a lonely road.

And a lonely road is a bodyguard if we really want it to be.
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All photographs by Karen Fayeth, and taken with my iPhone 4. Bay Bridge shot from the QuadCamera app.

I Believe...

If you've ever had occasion to see a "Blue Collar Comedy" live show, then you know they end each performance with a litany of items that each of the four comedians believes.

Here is my I Believe list for today. Subject to change. Some restrictions apply. Offer ends July 20, 2010. Not valid in all 50 states.

I Beeeelieve....

...that Costco stores, like casinos, pump some substance into their ventilation system that causes me to behave in odd ways. How else can you explain my hitting all the sample tables like a drunk at a buffet bar, then buying a two thousand pack of toilet paper?

...that the first Indiana Jones movie is the one true Indiana Jones movie, and all else are just weak riffs on the original. I rate the movies on likability in the order in which they were made.

That said...

I also beeelieve that the "Crystal Skull" movie was not quite as bad as everyone made it out to be.

...that green chile has curative powers that extend beyond just physical health. I think we can achieve world peace and fix the global economy over a plate of enchiladas. Sour cream and fried egg on top.

...that Paris Hilton did, indeed, inhale. Yea verily though she has been busted for possession twice and gotten off scott free twice, I believe the clock is ticking and she will soon be cellmates with Lindsey.

...that coffee is the work of dark, evil forces. For though I welcome coffee with both arms and hug it to my person like a long lost sibling, it does terrible things to my stomach causing pain and acid reflux and generally causing havoc. And yet, I can't seem to quit the dark beckoning brew.

...that red light cameras are patently unfair and unconstitutional and defy the Bill of Rights and upset the Code of Conduct and Robert's Rules of Order and some other stuff I can't think of right now. They don't allow me to face my accuser in court! It's bad! Real bad! Obviously, I'm still not over it.

...that AT&T is not quite as evil as we think (though they are still evil). Apple is not quite a cool as we think (though they are still cool). And that for some reason that I can't explain, I dreamt last night that I met Bill Gates. And he hit on me. : shudder :

...that the 1970's were weird and awkward during the 1970's, and somehow time has made us all forget that. Now we remember the decade as cool.

...that times have gotten a little tough when grownups are stealing girl scout cookies. And stealing their money. And stealing their cookies. What's next? Nun's stealing babies? Oh. Weird.

...that white chocolate is just as delicious as regular chocolate and should be afforded all rights pertaining thereto. Same goes for vanilla ice cream. Oh, and also that something must be done *immediately* regarding the vanilla shortage. Code Red, people.

...that by writing this list of I Believe items, I have successfully avoided doing any real work for an hour and a half.

The things that matter

I had a really great time being in southern New Mexico over the weekend. I got to spend time with many of my old Ag College friends who still rely on the weather and the earth to make a good part of their living.

I got back to my rural roots. It was a fresh reminder.

While I whine and complain about all the rain we got this year in Northern California, I was reminded, plenty reminded, that water is still the heart of life in a town like Las Cruces.

Simple water. Yet not so simple.

As we drove out to my best friend's house, which is well and gone north of Las Cruces, my old senses kicked in. I smelled the water before I saw it. We rounded a corner and could see that the main irrigation ditch was running high.

"Someone must have ordered water," I said aloud to no one in particular.

"That looks like almond trees going in," I pointed out to my husband.

"Whoa, that used to be a cotton field...looks like they put in chile," I commented.

I greeted each pasture and expanse of farmland like an old friend.

"Chickens!" I exclaimed when we came to a traffic jam on the road (us and another car). The Good Man had asked, "um, why are we stopped?" and I had the better view around the car ahead.

There was a bantam rooster doing his strut on the warm asphalt of that rural New Mexico state road. We all waited for him to go by. He took his time.

Once at the party, The Good Man and I at one point talked with my best friend's dad. He said that they were having trouble with a neighbor up the road diverting their water. They'd order and not enough would show up.

I've been reading a lot of Louis L'Amour stories lately. In those books, diverting someone's water is a killing sort of offense.

I said to my dad-by-proxy, "you oughta weld that guy's gate shut" and he laughed. Don't think he hadn't already considered it. (and by gate, I meant irrigation gate, not the entry to his driveway)

As the night wore on, it got to be about two o'clock in the morning. The evening dew, such that it was, was starting to settle. I said to my husband, "this is good hay cutting weather." He asked why, and I said, "the dew makes the stalks wet and they bend instead of break."

I used to date a guy in college who had to end our dates fairly early because he had to get home and cut hay. I learned to recognize that smell. It meant it was time for him to scoot on home. Time to work when the water is in the air....

The next day, out at my friend's place, I learned the water in the irrigation ditch was running so high because it was a "free day" for the community. They got to water as needed.

I was wearing flip-flops and I tromped around the soggy yard helping my god-dog look for his favorite ball. The water made the air smell sweet. It also made the frogs come out and sing their sexy mating songs rather loudly.

We ate dinner outside with a chorus of humping frogs to accompany our meal.

All because of water.

Living in the city like I do, I take water for granted. I turn on the tap, and there it is. It falls from the sky and I curse the nuisance.

Yesterday, I was shopping at Nordstrom for a nice outfit to wear for a very important meeting today.

While I shopped in luxury, I looked down at my flip-flops. They still bore the dried mud from my friend's home. I tossed back my head and laughed at the beautiful, grounding irony of it all.

May I never forget the land and the people who rely daily on the value of pure, simple water.

Rather out of focus photo of my cranky god-cat and the gate at my friend's place.

Seeing myself in a new way

You know, looking at a photograph of myself is always an interesting and somewhat humbling experience.

In a photo, I never quite look the way that I imagine I look.

Where did those lines around the eyes come from? Do my hips really look like that?

Ah well.

The other day, I received an interesting photograph that surely has me pondering some things.

Here, I'll share the photo with you, my fabulous readers, so you can see what I'm talking about.

It is a fun photo of me driving! Isn't that neat! A perspective one doesn't often get.

Look at me...intense expression on my face. Hands firmly at ten and two. Or maybe more like eleven and one, but no matter.

That's a concentrated and skillful driver, no?

Yup, that photo was kindly mailed to me by the Superior Court of the county where I live.

Wasn't that sweet?

It appears they are of the belief that I didn't stop fully before making a right turn at a red light into a very busy intersection.

And so for the luxury of a faboo photo of me behind the wheel, I was charged $500.

I'm *ever* so pleased about that. Tickled pink. And other euphemisms I can't think of right now to sarcastically convey that I'm not very pleased AT ALL!

Next step: onward to driving school. Yay me.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate red light cameras? Oh I really hate them.

Things They Didn't Teach Me

I've been a proud holder of a driver's license for, oh say, about twenty-five years.

I first learned to drive our automatic transmission, four-wheel drive, 1972 Chevy Blazer on the hard packed dirt roads around Logan, New Mexico. Population 1,002.

Those roads were wide, empty of other cars, and easy to navigate.

Ya wanna park? Sure. Pull up somewhere near the house. That'll work.

Then I got a more formal education from the ubiquitous McGinnis School of Driving. Don't know if it is still the same now, but back then, every high school kid in Albuquerque learned to drive from McGinnis.

We got the usual lessons. Hands and 10 and 2. Back up in a straight line. Parallel park between the orange cones.

That parallel parking one...I didn't need that much in Albuquerque.

I needed it A LOT more once I moved to the Bay Area.

Parallel parking in San Francisco is like a sport. People will actually spectate the event. Comment on your technique. And point and laugh as you make six runs at that freaking small spot that you've just spent over an hour searching for.

These are things that Mr. McGinnis didn't teach.

That "spent an hour looking for a spot" is what got me thinking. Last night, The Good Man and I had an event up in the great City of San Francisco. It was to be held in the part of the City they call the Marina.

Now...we were feeling pretty good about our odds of parking (another thing McGinnis didn't teach, thinking ahead to where you'll park) because where we were headed has a pretty ample parking area. It's a big wide street with a line of parking spaces down the middle (Fillmore, for my SF readers). Plus, it was a Tuesday night.

Lots of spaces and a weeknight? High potential! Score!

However....

Luck was not on our side. An accident on 280 and backed up traffic for a hometown baseball game left us running late as it was. And when we got to the Marina...there wasn't a spot to be had.

So we did what we had to do. We began the slow circle around and around and around. Trolling for a spot.

McGinnis didn't teach me that.

Then the consideration of an ever so slightly empty spot at the curb. Can I fit my car in that? What are the odds the people living there will call the cops because my bumper is hanging in their driveway? Am I leaking over into the red zone? What are the odds I'll get a ticket?

Mr. McGinnis also did not teach me that.

And then, while panic growing and growing as we are now a half hour late for our event, the sheer ecstasy of actually FINALLY finding a spot. A big spot! A good spot! A spot we didn't even have to fend off other drivers to get into!

Yes! Sweet mystery of life at last I've found you!

Oh the relief. The weeping. The joy.

McGinnis School of Driving definitely did *not* teach me that.

I had to learn that all on my own.

I'm pretty lucky these days because The Good Man, a longtime San Francisco dweller by way of a Brooklyn upbringing isn't a'feared of these sorts of things. He'll plunge into the wackiest of driving, parking and navigating situations with ease and aplomb. Most of the time, like last night, he's got the wheel and I don't have to worry about it.

Because me, I learned to drive on empty dirt roads.

What the hell are all these cars doing around here!?!?!

(Don't think I haven't TOTALLY whipped in front of a Trolley Car to get to a good parking spot. Because I have.)