California Dreamin'

Call me, maybe?

There was a handwritten, cardboard sign in the front windshield. "For Sale: Call when you have cell service." A 203 area code. Had to look that one up later. Southwestern Connecticut, although the plates were New York state. If it belongs to a Yalie, he must be one of those artsy, drama school types, not the Wall Street variety. Still, someone who appreciates fine vintages… in this case an old VW bus but definitely NOT a beater. Gleaming red and black, practically smiling at me, winking at me even, in the parking lot with the waves crashing in the background. Beautifully restored from the looks of it although, really, I know nothing of such things.

I’m not a car person; I’m a romantic. And this just stirs up every running-away fantasy I’ve ever had. It wasn’t the only fantastic thing at the beach today, either. Actually, I think most everything at the beach is pretty darn fantastic any day, but there was a pod of whales today and it doesn’t get much better than that. Didn’t see a full breach, but I saw enough… and plenty of spray coming from those blow holes. One of them, a baby maybe, flirted for a while with a kayaker. Anyway, what I want to do is call that area code 203 guy, take that VW bus off his hands, and follow those whales up the coast.