Desert Hot Springs in my Rear View Mirror

Every night I dream I'm seeing Desert Hot Springs in my rear view mirror.

God, I want to get home. Once I get there I'll never leave again.

My wife dragged me to this dreadful place, where life went sour and ugly. I somehow managed to forget that this is part of Southern California.

SoCal has no future. Everything is sprawled all over the map, and you have to drive enormous distances to get anywhere. Clean, breatheable air is a memory. In the long haul, there won't be enough water. Besides being a literal desert, it's a cultural desert.

Ugly is what it is. And for me, lonely, sad, and depressing. Please, God, get me out of this trailer park.

A friend of mine says she might have a buyer for me. Or she might not. Either way, I'm cleaning out the big shed today, getting it ready for the next owner.

I'll make one trip north with a vanload for storage. Then I'll return the van to Desert Hot Springs, pick up my car, the insecto amarillo, give the keys to whomever, and be gone from here -- "gone like a cool breeze" as the Chuck Berry song* says. I'll motor up the coast, into the fog and mist of Big Sur. I'll take it slow and easy, stop in San Fran to see my little girl, the belly dancer (the light of my life), and then ease on up 101. After the Oregon passage, I'll be home with Mom.

I'll be there for her departure.

I just can't wait to see Desert Hot Springs in my rear view mirror.

*"You Can't Catch Me"