sprayhawk

So I was thinking today that the best way to drive is West.  Because whenever I drive anywhere good I’m going West.  Go West, young man, they say.  And then I do.  And it’s the best because when you drive West in the morning the sun is at your back.  You can drive all day and just watch the sun flying up behind you like some sort of greyhound race where you’re the stupid electric bunny thinking that you’re going to get away but really you’re just going in a circle.  And then the sun is past you all of a sudden and it’s burning all orange and red and purple as it bounces off all those particles and all those lazy thin clouds sleeping up there.

But it’s not burning your eyes out like it does in Kansas in the morning sometimes.  Those times in the morning in the winter where the sun is white and the ground is white and you feel that certainly your corneas are going to burn like eggs left too long in the pan.  But that’s on another day.

Because today it’s still warm and the pavement seems sort of nice and friendly.  And the sun sets all warm and cozy right in front of you and as it gets dark you get to the place you meant to go, which is probably the desert or maybe California, where the girls have blonde hair and blue eyes but not in a sorority kind of way but in an angelic kind of way.  And the brunette girls have enormous green eyes like those rolling hills you saw out in Idaho, and they probably have boyfriends but that’s all right because it’s just nice to have pretty girls around sometimes.

You know, you could live that day over and over if you wanted to.  You could get on a boat and keep going straight into the Pacific, though I’ve never done that.  But maybe you’d hit Japan and stay for awhile, maybe a couple of weeks.  And then one day you’d decide enough is enough or your out of cash and you’d turn your boat around and go the other way.

But then you’d have to deal with the Eastern sun.  That morning sun that you have to drive into like your reaching your hand too far into a hot oven and you want to pull it out real quick because it hurts like hell.  But you drive your boat back East anyway because you can’t stay in Japan forever.  And you hit land and you say hello and bye to those pretty blonde girls and you wave your hand at those green rolling Idaho hills.  But you can’t stop.  You’ve got to keep driving East because you’ve got obligations.  And the sun won’t stop, not even for a second.  So instead of overtaking you the sun goes past you the other way, and you want to stop him and say, hey, what’s so great over there?  But he won’t answer because he’s busy with a lot of other interstellar business like all those sunrises.  So you just watch the sun disappear in your rearview mirror and say damn that’s beautiful.