I believe in Yesterday.
I race down the long straight stretch of 395 between Lakeview and Alturas, trying to incorporate my wobbly new danger into my worldview. This section has always been one of my favorite parts of the drive to Burning Man; the beautiful, serene countenance of Goose Lake, parallel to the road, but far enough off it to project an alluring sense of mystery.
My mind wanders down memory lane to previous trips. This time last year, I was barreling down this road in my trailer-laden tiger Saab, hot in pursuit of the London street bus in which the distraught, topless, champagne-drunk stripper in my passenger seat believed she had left her ID bag / drug kit.
Lost in thought, I wobble down the road singing "Yesterday," my voice oscillating as if I were singing into a fan.
My mind wanders down memory lane to previous trips. This time last year, I was barreling down this road in my trailer-laden tiger Saab, hot in pursuit of the London street bus in which the distraught, topless, champagne-drunk stripper in my passenger seat believed she had left her ID bag / drug kit.
Lost in thought, I wobble down the road singing "Yesterday," my voice oscillating as if I were singing into a fan.
1 Comments:
Ivan -- you rock!
we'll pick you up by the side of the road if you need it. ;)
Reno was right, 31 is waaaaay prettier. If you've ever been there under a full moon, it's one of the neatest things ever.
Here's to wind at your back,
girly
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