I drive when I’m in California. I guess that’s what you’re supposed to do out here. When in Rome…
It’s fun. It’s tiring. It’s the American way.

I drive a twenty year old Diesel Mercedes that’s a little sluggish but just perfect for me. Yesterday we went to the mall. Target. Payless. Barnes and Noble. Old Navy. Like every other mall.

Today I went to the Citibank, the Starbucks, the UPS store in another mall. It’s like a game getting from one mall to the other. From one parking lot to another.

I could be anywhere (except Brooklyn or San Francisco).

Tonight we went to see the Simpsons movie at the mall. The theater was completely empty until two couples came in just before the movie began. The sound went off about ten minutes in. It took five more minutes for someone to fix it.

Teen Spirit and OSFO were hungry so we ate at Sonic Burger afterwards. We were served by a girl on roller skates. Very retro. Very American Graffiti, which was set in Modesto not far from here (but was shot in Marin County).

After the movie, the streets, the roads were quiet, empty, just lights in the darkness. Everything was closed. Went to the enormous Saveway for milk, orange juice, tonic.  I bought the September Vogue. "It’s 800 ages as long as Harry Potter," Hepcat said.

I always buy the September Vogue when I’m out here. "Why does Vogue need to be so long?" Teen Spirit asked.

It’s only when I’m driving on the small, rural roads — big sky, fields to either side, the strong stench of fertilizer, tomatoes, pick-up trucks, cows, FARM — that I am transported—on the open road—to a different America.