Something About August, I Guess

It was about this time of the winter that people started getting wistful for the things back home and what intended to do, promptly, when they got of the Ice.  Midwinter had recently passed but the elation of reaching the halfway point had now dissapated in the cold realization that there were months yet left to go.  This is when most people broke and headed deep down the Spiral of Toast.  Elaborate drunken plans of questionable logistics/finances/sanity were crafted in the dark smoky confines of Club 90 South.  Most of them didn't survive the harsh sunlight of landing in Christchurch.

I got asked what I missed most.  I had to give that some thought.  While I certainly missed hiking in the redwood trees, I'd gotten used to missing them over the previous several years in Silicon Valley.  It was then that I experienced what I would later call a Horse On Fire moment...

I could feel the acceleration through the curve.  The wind rushed in the sunroof and through my hair.  The smell of Sierra pines in the warm summer sun, but the air is cool with the altitude passing through Silverfork and Twin Bridges.  There was a Whatchamacallit bar in the door pocket and a Cherry Coke in the cup holder, traditional Hwy 50 road trip snacks.  The California Alpine drive is savored, going through those turns endlessly, but never arriving in Lake Tahoe.

Jake: "YO!  PHIL!"
Phil: "Huh?  What?"
J: "You stroked off for a moment there.  Got another CD in the case?" (CD is shorthand for Canterbury Draught)
P: "Uh, yeah.  Sorry."

I had a couple more fugue moments in August and September where I got to enjoy driving in the Sierras.  If I had any in October, I don't remember them. 

I'm not hallucinating like I did in Antarctica but, man, a drive to Yosemite or Tahoe sounds like a good idea right now.