Day 78:
Visited our niece Sheralyn and her family today. Got to their house in Huntington Beach about 11:15 am and settled in for a great visit with her and the new little one, Taylor, who is 14 months old and a real joy.
Joined later by the teen contingent, Jyle, Serah, and Aubrey (17, 18, and 15 respectively). Later still, after work, by Sher's husband, Rob.
Great visit, right through an excellent barbequed dinner and cheesecake desert. With wine and beer, of course. Hey, its Southern California - they'd be thrown out of the neighborhood without a good wine served at dinner. So, when in Rome, ..... as the saying goes.
Finally, a repeat of yesterday, we must face the freeway again. This time, due north on US 405 right up through the heart of Los Angeles. But today we are smarter than yesterday. Much smarter. We are going at night this time. What we can't see we can't be afraid of, right? Just like pulling the covers over your head as a kid so the monsters couldn't be seen and therefore couldn't bite.
So at 9:30 pm we set off. Jan isn't sure about this idea, seems a bit silly to her. If daytime is bad, isn't night time worse? I say, no problem, the cars move so fast that you can't see them and you'll barely have time to close your eyes or be scared before they hit you. Jan is not reassured by this, but I am resolved and she acquiesces. At least this time we won't have to change freeways, we'll be on 405 North all the way to I-5 just north of Santa Carita. Jan likes that part, so off we go.
At first my hope for a lighter traffic flow seems to be working. Then, when we are well and truly into the adventure, the cars crowd into the freeway like a jail break. They are everywhere, flying, landing gear coming up into their bellies and afterburners kicking in. By now I'm in the middle lane because the right lanes are merging on and off the freeway steadily and my neck is getting stiff from alternating between turning frantically and hunching down between my shoulders. Now I don't even look at the speedometer, its pinned most of the time anyway. Jan has been gibbering for a while, hardly coherent, trying to count down the distance to the next move demanded by the GPS. My eyes are wide and my hands frozen to the wheel, clawlike. Even Hal, the GPS, has lost his mind and is trying to send us off on some wild errand to the right, probably trying to hook us up to Interstate 5. OK, fine, whatever, but give me some warning, will you. The traffic to the right has gone supersonic now, and I can't even break into it since I have no acceleration left. So we press on with 405, and Hal eventually recalculates and gives us the bearings that we were expecting.
On we go into the night and suddenly, for me at least, the zen-like feeling returns. Except for the fact that my vantage point for watching the action is about 10 feet above the car, I am in total control and feel at peace in the scrum. I have to remind my right foot, and my hands, that my brain is in control and command them to move from time to time. They obey, and Jan remains oblivious to my negotiations with my body parts. Then, again, reality. we slow, slow, then stop. Then go, stop, go, and eventually we pass the hold-up and up comes the landing gear and the afterburners are on again. We are flying. Much later, Jan told me of the accident, the cars at odd angles in the fast lane and the emergency vehicles not even there yet. Glad I didn't know at the time.
Eventually, our destination at Castaic, CA. Flaps down, gear down, greased the landing perfectly leaving the rest of the squadron on their night flight to oblivion. A rum-and-coke, a debriefing, and unconscious for the evening. Tomorrow we do it again, heading for the wine country near Lodi.
