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Six-car pass day

It was a six-car pass morning. Early enough, but dammit, the pokies were still out there. I took three in one swoop, high in the canyon. To be fair, two were not pokies, just stuck behind the other, but I took them all coming out of the first turn just past the Corral.

The Corral, the nightclub (an empty lot, now), the place where the biggies used to play back in Topanga’s hippie heyday; Springsteen, the Doors, the Dead—my neighbor used to go there. “It was a great time, man. A little weed, some wine, and you were getting laid. And great music...” It didn’t hurt that he was the type always to get laid, whatever the era. Some guys are just lucky that way. He would tell you that he made his own luck. Whatever…

The Dead—I have to admit that I over-anticipated, starting the pass earlier than I should have—a mistake in judgment that I noted; future reminder—but no one was coming. Perhaps I would have seen their headlight-reflection if, or maybe my subconscious saw there wasn’t one. Anyway, a bad practice…

I left the heater on over night in the trailer, another error, but what the hell, the heat is welcome. Time to start working…


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