Gas, two stops for food and, you know, the bathroom. 379 miles. 580-880-101. When I got on to the 101 (yes, the) it was 322 miles of beautiful California on a mostly sunny day.
As the miles slid by, every time I saw the green growing on the hills, mountains and valleys, a smile grew across my face.
I stopped counting Papa Joe's (hawks to the uninitiated) after 15.
There was a lot of singing. I never made it to the many podcasts stored on my phone. There was some car dancing. And there was some crying.
Sitting in the car, beauty all around me, car singing my favorite songs, safety descends around me and the tears well.
When I finally saw the ocean, it felt like I was home.
Oh and there was traffic. But it was muted by the green dinosaurs sleeping on either side of me until I reached the coast. Then the sun and waves and fog and islands eclipsed any other cars on the road.
It was a good day.
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