California

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SUNNY-AS-FUCK CALIFORNIA
We finally cross the border into California, where there was a little checkpoint where a uniformed border control officer actually had the nerve to make me stop the car so that he could ask me if I had any fruits or vegetables on board. Despite the fact that the bed of my truck was filled with bags that could have stored a grip of bananas, I simply said "No dude", and he let me on my way. Next time I drive to California, I'm smuggling across a ton of bananas, just because I can. And maybe some drugs, too.

As soon as we drove into California, the sun nearly fucking melted the rubber tires on my car; the temperature guage in my truck read 120 degrees, and rolling down the windows to smoke a cigarette was a bitch because it let in this intense heat that made you sweat so profusely, you wanted to smoke another cigarette. But you couldn't, you see, because the heat was...oh never mind.

We stopped at the first city we came to, I forget the name, to get some gas and take a bathroom break. It was a shitty city; the first gas station we pulled into off the freeway, the gas was $3.75 a gallon. Jesus. We drove a little ways into the city, which looked a lot like Farmington from The Shield, until we found gas that was cheaper. It was hot and the city was a shithole, so I wanted to get back on the road as fast as possible. On the way into the gas station to pay, I walked past a conversation that, I shit you not, went like this: “Yea, so this motha’ fuckin’ bullshit was fuckin’ pussy-ass bullshit and shit, know what I’m sayin nigga? Bitchass niggas and shit.” It was… eloquent.

FREEWAYS
We were close now, I could smell the L.A. smog in the air. After driving out of that city, we were on the freeway, where everyone drove like they needed to take a shit in the worst way, and had like, Olympic seconds to find a bathroom before they shit themselves. Seriously. The closer we got to Los Angeles, the worse it got too, although I did enjoy driving like that; it was as if people on the freeways in California did what they were SUPPOSED to do on freeways; get on, and haul ass, until you exit. It was nothing like in Texas, particularly Lubbock, where you get on the loop without a sense of urgency, and just cruise around at a leisurely pace. Of course, I like it chill and relaxed, but a part of me really enjoyed driving around with a fast paced, frantic, everyone-for-themselves mentality. Especially when cracked out on a diet of adderall and energy drinks. That shit was fun, man.

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