TuesdayDriveTime2DeepBreath

TUESDAY DRIVE TIME #2
DEEP BREATH AND HOLD

I was coming off three brutal nights and days. The sun was out and I was driving into it in cross-town traffic, westbound on I-10. The only respite from the orange glare came from passing giant SUVs and delivery trucks. The whole L.A. Basin was smoggy or hazy today, and my lungs hurt. It wasn't muscular pain - I could sit in a room and push as hard as I could on painful chest areas and not feel a thing other than from the pressure, but when I tried to breathe it was like I ached from inside.

Playing around with this kind of pain may not sound like fun to the reader, but you had to be where I was. It was the climax of several days of various mental and physical activity, and it was definitely going to end with a whimper: 3 boring hours followed by a quick contentious period, knowing all the time that when this particular ordeal was finished I would have to get on L.A. freeways and start a minumum 2 hour drive home. It was up to the traffic gods if I would be able to try the coast route, and I did so when I heard that virtually all the freeways were parking lots. It was 5:30 p.m.

I made it out the McClure Tunnel in Santa Monica and caught my first view of the Pacific Ocean in time to watch the sun set. Traffic was still bump and go on PCH, but at least I could see the ocean. I couldn't really smell it too much, however, due to all the idling cars and SUVs. I finally rolled the car windows down at Sunset, where a breeze at least mitigated the circumstances with the smell of the ocean.

As I, or perhaps I should just say "we" since I was hardly alone, as we drove north on PCH traffic gradually dropped off. It was moving once the Topanga folks turned, some to the canyon homes and many others to take it through to the Valley. It's been years and at least two major fires since I've been in Topanga Canyon. Mental note on that one - maybe save it for the next good full moon.

On into Malibu and it was dark by that time. I couldn't even see the Pier to check construction progress on the buildings. I could see small waves on the point, with 20 or 30 black dots in the water.

Passed the turns for Malibu Canyon Road, and another herd of cars were gone. Corral Beach was showing lines - good, big ones for that place. I had to think back to 1977 to recall seeing that action, but then my time there was reduced considerably since then. South Swell action!

The next big exodus was at Point Dume. There is an elementary school there, or at least there used to be. Local kids used to change the sign to "Point Dumb" before they got older and were bussed down to Santa Monica High and their eventual lives as Brat-pack era actors and real estate agents. Past Dume and Zuma was do dark I couldn't see a thing.

Times have changed along this run of coastline, just like everyplace else. Malibu has a high school now, near Zuma somwhere. One thing which seldom changes is the Trancas market, a fixture for so long i no longer remember when it wasn't there. They change owners once in a while, and for all I know they change their name too. That's legal stuff. It's Trancas Market. Back down in Malibu what is now Von's or something used to be the nearly lonesome Colony Market, and when I lived down the road they still carried accounts for local residents. Now the whole place is a Beverly Hills Mall. I say hello to my brother-in-law's Bird of Paradise stock where they remain in the landscaping, sold to the developers years ago.

After Zuma there are few cars left on the road, coming or going. The eyes adjust to the darker conditions, and I can sometimes make out the ocean to my left. It's past 7 P.M. by this time. I roll the window down and breathe deep. The wind is onshore and depending on what part of PCH I'm on at any given time I can smell thick salt air, native and resident plants in spring bloom, or the occasional pungent odor of buring driftwood in campfires. North past County Line and the smells are heavy salt air and sometimes a little blowing dirt. My chest doesn't hurt nearly as much. Probably a combination of total exhaustion, stress, and air pollution. I'm getting closer to home, to food and a bed, and air you more often than not can't see. By the time I pass Mugu Rock I'm in the zone. A busload of Seabees are on the rifle range, probably taking the whole notion of firearms more seriously than they evere have before. The world in all it's glories and pitfalls is still out there, still with us, still with me, but we'll get by.

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