I spent about an hour and a half in my totally analog 89 Carrera this morning, only once reminding myself that I do not have anti-lock brakes. I freely admit that I am spoiled by the unbelievably effective braking systems in modern cars, like in my 2015 Cayman GTS, enabling me to brake way too late without recourse or remorse. Not so in my 89.
I like early weekend drives up PCH. I have been driving on it for 50 years, and I enjoy it as much now as I did when I was sixteen. Yes, the sights have changed. Yes, the number of cars has increased. Yes, the number of motorcycles has increased. Yes, the number of bicyclists has increased. But the feeling of peace and the relaxation I get when driving by the water is still there, as long as it is daylight and especially if the sun is shining, as it was this morning.
These drives are mind clearing, but sometimes tire screeching. This morning I was driving along in my mental fugue, ruminating on a host of things, ranging from bourbon to vaccinations to the state of Covid affairs, when I noticed that the light at Temescal changed.
I was too far from the intersection to keep going and too close to stop without locking up my wheels. Sadly, I have done this enough times to know when the lockups will occur. Happily, I have done this enough times to just enjoy the feeling of skidding to a stop. Thankfully, I did not have to endure the smell of burnt rubber, though I think that had more to do with the direction the wind was blowing than to the absence of the smell itself.
After the screeching stopped, with the nose of my car only partially into the crosswalk, I began to ruminate again. We have been living with the Covid restrictions for just about a year. In some respects it feels like a lifetime. As I have written about before, my inner hermit has been ruling my life, only releasing its grip on me sporadically. But that is changing.
Pam and I are fully vaccinated, each having received two doses of the Pfizer vaccine. It is getting more and more likely that the people we come into contact with are vaccinated, too, meaning that the likelihood of getting infected or passing the infection along is getting lower all the time, which leaves me wondering when to press reset and begin to lead a more normal life. It also leaves me fighting with my inner hermit, which is quite content with the status quo.
As I passed Malibu, Paradise Cove and Zuma and pulled into the Trancas Market parking lot, my favorite Jimmy Dale Gilmore song began on my iPod. Yes, I still have an iPod. Actually, I have two, one in each of my cars, mainly because I love special purpose devices. But that is neither here nor there.
Jimmy Dale Gilmore is an alt-Country, Americana artist from Texas who is about as non-commercial as an artist can be, at least here in West Los Angeles, though Pam and I did see him and Dave Alvin perform at the Troubadour a couple of years ago.
Jimmy Dale spent most of the 70s in an ashram in Colorado, which must have provided him with the perspective to write the lyrics for Just a Wave, Not the Water, a ballad about a failed love affair in which the dumpee was reminded over and over again in the refrain that he was just a wave passing through the life of the dumper.
Entering my hermit state was easy. It was legislated and it felt right, despite the economic carnage that occurred. Now the US is opening up. The tide is leaning towards restoring our ability to act normally, even if we have to do so masked. Schools are opening. Sports are returning. We can eat outside. But the future is not clear. It is highly likely that the case count, which has been dropping over the past few weeks, will go the other way again.
So there I sat, listening to Jimmy Dale wax poetically about coming to terms with the end of a relationship. So there I sat, waiting to go into the Trancas Market to buy some tea for Kimberly, something that I could have bought at Pavilions about a mile from my house when I was there early this morning. So there I sat, wondering if it was time to treat Covid as the wave, not the water.
I think it will be very soon.