A nice drive..

It was one of those days. Finals were over and I had nothing better to do. I didn't want to go home; anything's better than going back home. So down the the 5 freeway it was. I didn't really plan on it and I didn't know where I was going.

As I navigated through six o'clock traffic, I was summarizing an idea I had for a book. No, a script. No, a book. And, it was going to be about gambling. It would start with, "Chips!" Yes, that's how it would start.

Six o'clock traffic going southbound on the 5 freeway and I didn't want to go to Disneyland. It's the place I always gravitated to when I wanted to get away from it all. It is Fantasyland afterall.

I kept on going.

What to do, what to do? Southbound to the 133 interchange. Then southbound towards Laguna Beach.

I haven't been to Laguna Beach in a few years. Not since that morning when I left her sleeping in her bed. I can't even remember what she looked like. Crumpled up in those covers, maybe? I do remember that the room was cold and the light of the sun was trying to break in through those bamboo-style blinds. I tiptoed out, put my pants on and grabbed my shoes. I looked over the apartment one last time and I left, knowing I'd never see her again.

The drive up the 133 was surreal. I half expected to pull alongside her dingy white Suburu at any moment. I looked in each car I passed thinking maybe she traded that piece of shit in for something new. Maybe I'd get a glimpse of her looking in a rearview mirror or, maybe, I'd see her staring at me, bewildered.

Because summer is so close, the late afternoon sun was still high enough to cast its commanding orange glow over the canyons flanking the highway. I hadn't really noticed them before but... the canyons were gorgeous. Ansel Adams be damned for not shooting them.

Nothing had changed. It looked exactly how I remembered it. The 133 ended right at the beach. Tourists on their bikes, couples hand-in-hand and the The Beach cast member wanna-be's in their Benzes and BMWs were all up and down PacCoast Highway. The white sand against a blue sky. The smell of salty air and fond memories.

I made a right and kept driving; past her street, past the Indian restaurant we once ate, past Crystal Cove. I didn't have a plan. I just kept driving.

I remembered that morning as I drove home. Remembering how disappointed I was, how sad I was. It was the perfect start of a new year, a new beginning. I could recall there being alcohol on my breath. And bicyclists.

I entered Newport Beach, remembering other memories. And then it was back onto the 55 freeway and back to the 5.

It was a drive that passed the time while allowing me to revisit the past.

"Chips!"

I like it.