hen i rached the top of the ramp .
ihadn't counted on rush hour . i settled in . the air n the vallley was cleaner than the air in the downtown basin had been - clear enough that icould see the sihouettes of the mountains rimmming the valley , the sn gabriel mountains to thenorth , the santa monica mountains to the south . the sun was starting its late-afernoon descent at almost twelve o'clock .from my vnatage in the cnter
on the way to rzan i had plenty of time to contemplae the ways LA hd changed in theyears since i had left souththern california behind .
more cars . lots more cars .
i panicked for a couple ofmiles - since my aveage sped was less than fifteen miles an hour , my attack was most ten minutes - as - approached the intersection of the hollywood freeway and the ventur freeway . he tow freeways , both familiar from my yougth , had the same number - th 101 - but for some rason i couldn't recall they had different names . it was a logical conundrum that hadn't been at all important to me when i was not yet driving .
from my vantage in the center lane on the ventura freeway , it apppeared that most of what existd in between the two sets of mountians was little chnaged over the decades since i'd last been to the valley . the buildingadjacent to the freeway were taller .the malls seemed to ahve been replaced by multistory garages . much of what had been developed had been redeveloped .
i recalledd bud's daughter in hidden hills . the first amy . i got lost in a memory of theimpossible posture she managed while mounted on her horse's back , her white blon hair tickling the top of her perfect ass .
the congestion on the freeway morphed as i cleared sherman oaks . the change , i=unfortunately , was that it got worse . instead of crawling alng at a snail's pace , my fellow drivers fro a undred yards .or so before stopping again . some of the stops were fifteen seconds . some of them were a couple of minutes . never spotted anything that provided a clue as to why we were slowing or why we were going . i spent the dead tie listening to songs from my youth on an oldies station and of the major roads i spotted on the map hadn't even existed when i left southern california .
a sign indicated the apprroach of theimterchange with the 405 - the san diego freeway . i was just east of tarzana .
my phone rang . i glanced down . CARMEL POTEET read the screen .
ihadn't counted on rush hour . i settled in . the air n the vallley was cleaner than the air in the downtown basin had been - clear enough that icould see the sihouettes of the mountains rimmming the valley , the sn gabriel mountains to thenorth , the santa monica mountains to the south . the sun was starting its late-afernoon descent at almost twelve o'clock .from my vnatage in the cnter
on the way to rzan i had plenty of time to contemplae the ways LA hd changed in theyears since i had left souththern california behind .
more cars . lots more cars .
i panicked for a couple ofmiles - since my aveage sped was less than fifteen miles an hour , my attack was most ten minutes - as - approached the intersection of the hollywood freeway and the ventur freeway . he tow freeways , both familiar from my yougth , had the same number - th 101 - but for some rason i couldn't recall they had different names . it was a logical conundrum that hadn't been at all important to me when i was not yet driving .
from my vantage in the center lane on the ventura freeway , it apppeared that most of what existd in between the two sets of mountians was little chnaged over the decades since i'd last been to the valley . the buildingadjacent to the freeway were taller .the malls seemed to ahve been replaced by multistory garages . much of what had been developed had been redeveloped .
i recalledd bud's daughter in hidden hills . the first amy . i got lost in a memory of theimpossible posture she managed while mounted on her horse's back , her white blon hair tickling the top of her perfect ass .
the congestion on the freeway morphed as i cleared sherman oaks . the change , i=unfortunately , was that it got worse . instead of crawling alng at a snail's pace , my fellow drivers fro a undred yards .or so before stopping again . some of the stops were fifteen seconds . some of them were a couple of minutes . never spotted anything that provided a clue as to why we were slowing or why we were going . i spent the dead tie listening to songs from my youth on an oldies station and of the major roads i spotted on the map hadn't even existed when i left southern california .
a sign indicated the apprroach of theimterchange with the 405 - the san diego freeway . i was just east of tarzana .
my phone rang . i glanced down . CARMEL POTEET read the screen .
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