Free write-- Fog

I think one of the scariest weather situations is a dense fog with rain and it just so happens that the cabin had that situation 2 days ago I was driving up the mountain and through the clouds which is always cool because I wonder what its like to be in clouds-- from UCR I can see the clouds-- big thick cumulus clouds --and when the musics over I go up the mountain and look up through the windshield to the encroaching cloud level which starts as a light mist and proceeds to a thick fog, so thick in fact that I was following a red car about 20-30 feet back and it disappeared-- so I slowed down to 20 mph because that was the safe speed at which if there were something in the way I could see it in time and stop safely--this changed to about 10 when the fog got the thickest I have ever seen--and for one brief instant the wind blew it away and gave me back my visibility and there was the red car--a corolla I think-- not 20 ft from me the whole time--now the purpose of this bit of text is when I turned off the main road and went through the twisty winding path beset by trees on either side--I only know this because I have driven it many times --because the fog obscures it all now-- it was also a full moon out so there was a white brightness above that illuminated the fog a grey color and in some areas where it wasn’t as thick I could see the moonlight shining through the trees making twisted swaying shadows that had a thickness too them-- you know how your shadow is a 2 dimensional thing? like you see your shadow on the ground only or on a wall only? with the fog as it was the shadows had a 3rd dimension to them the shadow didn’t have an end but rather a middle thickness-- they were thick as each little droplet --lighter than air-- seemed to gather the shadow onto itself making the shadows of the swaying trees thick and palpable like there were ropes of shadow that I could climb if I wanted to--I drove to the cabin/parked/got out and the motion light by the door turned on--it seemed so far away because so little of the light reached me--a tiny candle a mile away--I ascended the stairs and stepped inside to drop my things off and then went back out to get the rest of it--the view from the door step is usually the city down below with all its yellow lights a glow and the parallel snakes of red tail lights and white headlights bisecting the county-- to the left another county-- to the right another and behind those riverside, behind that LA and behind that --only on a clear day-- the ocean--now the fog was so thick I couldn’t see the car parked 20 ft away--and when I started descending the stairs thats when I saw--the motion light not 5 ft behind me cast my shadow forward into the mist each droplet catching it along the way making my shadow not only have a new dimension--the likes of which I have never seen before-- but the silhouette looked vaguely human and just to play around I raised my arms to either side like a bear or monster or zombie might and the shadow did the same but now it seemed more intimidating and non human on account of the shifting fog--it was like I had made a new entity right in front of me and to thank me for its creation it would eat me and I became frightened and laughed it off--a fake laugh to convince myself--and continued forward the shadow in front of me mimicking my movments-I reached out twice expecting to feel something in the fog--to know that I would surely die by this shadow monster--but my hand passed through that shadow like so much fog. Now while that was all going on it was raining-- a steady rain of moderate drops, not a down pour and not a sprinkle but a moderate rain-- it reminded me of washington and yellowstone on 3 kings falls when it started hailing in the middle of the hike amongst the trees and the sounds seemed to come from anywhere-- but at least there I could see what was around me--here the fog obscures 10 ft and blocks off 20 ft and all around the sound of big thick drops sparsely falling upon leaves and trees and the sound being carried on the floating water making it sound like it is coming from all directions and none at the same time-- with an inability to see or hear or smell well I realized the limits of my faculties and it seemed to me I could be anywhere in the world besides big bear right now because I couldn’t see anything but the ground beneath my feet and the light --a tiny tea light-- burning a mile away--(which reminds me of the Mayans directing their boats through the coral reef by lighting a fire on the shore inside a building with an angled stone opening you had to be at a certain angle to see and if you could see it that meant you were dodging the coral reef on either side which would rip a boat apart if you collided with it so you followed the light a mile away which had multiple stone angled openings so as you traversed the maze of coral and got closer the light would get lost and you had to change direction till you found it again and continue on because coral doesn’t grow with nice straight openings in it)--with the moon turning the floating water into a wall of grey--I imagined how easy it would be to become lost in this situation--even in a place I knew--plus I started to feel I wasn’t alone and the rain falling made it impossible to hear anyone approaching or making any sound and the fog with the moonlight made it seem like there were all kinds of things out there --great skeletal fingers --- all of it waiting for a chance to scoop me up--luckily I know none of that could REALLY happen but I think of those that came before me thousands of years ago--they knew no such thing and actually believed there were giants and dragons and werewolves in the fog--which is why they didn’t travel in fog and generally stayed inside for fear of being eaten--which is why generations later I need to laugh in the fog to remind myself --unconvincingly-- how silly I am--because there is nothing out there in the fog 30 ft away looking at me with hungry eyes--right?

snow poem

So a prose poem is a poem without line breaks. Many people can't tell the difference between a prose poem and a short fiction story. SO lemme tell ya the diff: Prose poem is emotion driven, rather than character or plot driven as in fiction. so here is me prose poem to be workshopped wednesday:

There’s something in California’s snow.
by me

It makes people greedy, makes them happy (a full-blown child-happy, like when uncle Mac visited that one time with several handfuls of candy when you were five—those chocolate ones with liquor in the middle), makes them generous, makes them irrational, makes strangers into friends.

People gather it, horde it, place it on their hoods, roofs and trunks. They fill up shopping bags, ice chests, and truck beds at the summit and bring it down the mountain (Quick, before it melts!) back into town, to friends and family that never expected to see snow today, this year, ever. It brings smiles, brings people together (they were going to a movie just now, but a snowball to the face changes that). Even immigrants fresh from the desert who only know snow from Hollywood soap-flakes cast into giant fans know how to wage a snowball war, and if they don’t they learn as its first casualty.

They want to touch it, want to stick their hands in it (just to do it), want to lick it, kick it, eat it, fall in it, write their name in it (kids too). People buy snow gear for this trip, plan the drive, make the trek, wait in traffic (it takes all day, trust me), only to reach the CHP barricade that mandates chains to proceed. Those without chains must turn back. They don’t though. They park in a large turnout with their chainless kindred, and go on a pilgrimage the short two miles to town, unaware the snow there has melted from traffic.

A guy drives passed the chainless in his 4x4 long-bed monster truck (a native) and returns much later to the turnout with his bed overflowing with snow. He steps out wearing his galoshes and drops the lid, hops back inside, drives away, stops, reverses quickly before stopping hard—dislodging the block of snow from the bed, which smashes on the ground with a deep fwump—a miniature mountain conquerable by toddlers. With mitten-muffled claps they scream and cheer, and gather their snow gear: saucers, sleds, toboggans, skis and boards to take turns going down this slope. The fathers come to the native and thank him, one man with watery eyes shakes his hand and says: Anytime you are in Cuernavaca stop by, and hands a slip of paper to him.

***

the end. This is actually getting workshopped next next wednesday...

On work: Corvette Drivers

In February I will have worked at the tire store for 5 years. I will also be 25 years old.

In that five years I have realized striking similarities amongst groups of people.

Corvette Drivers, Porsche Drivers, Mercedes Drivers stand out the most in my mind at this moment. I have reached the level now where where I can look at a person and determine what kind of vehicle they drive. And I can do this with ridiculous accuracy. I can also tell if a customer plans to buy anything or not. More on that later.

Corvette Drivers fall into two main categories. The first is the one that refers to their car as "The vette" or "my Vette" exclusively and the other is the hardcore enthusiast. The ones that call their car "The vette" bought it for status. They usually don't have the bucks for a new one, so they get an older one but with a convertible top. They rarely drive their cars fast or aggressively and cruise from place to place in a lower gear so the car gurgles as it drives. They often wear polo shirts, sport the mullet hair style and don't take their sunglasses off when they step inside.

The tires that go on the corvette are expensive. The new corvette tires are close to the 2k dollar mark, every time. The fancy tires are corvette specific and made by Goodyear. They are almost 500 each because they are the only tire that simultaneously: fits a corvette, can handle 200mph, lasts a long time for a high performance tire and is a run flat (the tire can function without air for ~50 miles and as such the corvette doesn't come with a spare tire).

****
The following is true:

I was working the counter when a new customer walked in the door. He was middle aged, wore a white polo shirt and sunglasses and had a mullet. He wore jean shorts and white Nike shoes. He looked like a Corvette driver to me, but I had to wait for him to speak to be sure which of the two groups he belonged. I enthusiastically welcomed him to the store and asked him how I could help him today.
"I think I need new tires on my vette." He said this optimistically. I already knew two important things about this guy. One he belonged to the poser group who bought the corvette for status and two, he had never purchased tires for "the vette" before, because once they do they are never the same again. 2,000 dollars spent on tires cannot be forgotten, even after counseling and hypnotism.
"Well, let's take a look at your vehicle," I say as I walk toward the door. He follows and leads me to "the vette." It looks like a 2000 model year. It is red and a convertible. It is clean and the wheels are polished. The licence plat says "bdvette," the exhaust pipes are chrome and the tail lights have chrome brackets over them. As he approaches he rubs a smudge out of the corvette symbol on the rear of the car.

I kneel down and inspect the tires. I already know the sizes and have written them down before I steeped outside. There is a lot that can be told from inspecting tires. The rear tires are evenly worn all the way across which is hard to do unless you drive slow. There is no rubber splashed inside the wheel well from a smokey burnout or aggressive driving. The front tires are a little rough and choppy meaning it probably hasn't been rebalanced since he purchased it back in 2006. The tires were made in the 32nd week of 2000. Could these tires be the original ones from 2000?
"how many miles are on the car right now?" I ask.
He opens the door and looks at the digital odometer, which is blank because the car is not on. So he turns it on and looks again, but all it says is "driver's door open." So he climbs inside, which is always ungraceful because the car is so low to the ground, and closes the door. Then he calls out:
"forty thousand and twenty four."

This is well within the range for the first set of tires on a corvette if it is driven slowly. This is also the time that rubber suspension components wear out. On the left front tire I can see the inside tread gone and replaced by steel belts wearing through the tire as a result of failing rubber suspension parts. This guy doesn't know he is going to have to spend around 4k this week. 2k for tires and then an alignment that will lead to the discovery of dried out suspension parts that need to be replaced (about 1k), along with the brakes (about 1k) that should be replaced. I look at the guy who is stepping out of the car now careful not to slam the door, he seems happy, completely unaware of the costs involved with "the vette".

So I walk him back inside, bring up his information, click on the tire screen (which is arranged least expensive to most expensive) and scroll all the way down to the bottom then turn the computer to him so he can see.
"This is the Goodyear Eagle F1 GS EMT. It is the same tire you have on the vette right now. A set of two fronts and two rears will run you $1695.13 which includes the sales tax, California's environmental fees, the labor--"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait? Did you say 1600 dollars?"
"Well, its almost 1700 dollars, but yeah."
"That can't be right," he says while blinking at the computer.
"It's the right price for Corvette tires. That's actually a great price cause they are usually two grand."
"That's way too much money." I don't agree its too much, but that it is expensive.
"Have you found a lower price somewhere else?" I ask so he doesn't go to the competition.
"Well, no, but that's, I mean, that's crazy."
"Yeah, Corvette tires are expensive."
"I can't afford that. Do you have anything else?"
"Yeah, but none of them are run flats."
"Does that matter?"
"Only if you get a flat tire."
"Why?"
"Cause the corvette doesn't have a spare tire." Recognition evades his expression, so I add: "If you get a flat or a nail or anything you are screwed--no spare and no run flat means you have to have a flat bed truck come get you."
"It doesn't have a spare?"
"Nope."
"You sure? Cause I think it does."
"It doesn't, but we can go look if you want to see for yourself." Because seeing is believing and it beats arguing for a long time while mistrust builds.
"Show me," he says. So I walk back out there, open the trunk and lift the carpet where any other car's spare would be and show him the flat plastic plate that is the trunk. He looks on in disbelief, then kneels down and looks under the car, then behind the seats. Then shakes his head and proclaims it weird. We walk back. I explain why having a run flat tire is a good idea, and why buying the inexpensive tires (full set 800 dollars) is a bad idea:
"They won't last as long, you might see 15k miles on them which means you would have to buy them more often. rather than the run flats which last around 40k. If you drive 40k miles you might have to buy 3 sets at 800 each time, rather than one for 1700 that will go the distance. Plus the Chevy guys engineered the car with those tires in mind. I wouldn't change it."

Pale in the face, hand trembling he pulls out his American express card and slides it through the reader.

"By the way, you probably need an alignment. I saw some alignment wear on the left front tire. We don't do alignments here, but here is a coupon for the place we recommend close by."
"Thank god it's only 44 dollars. Phew."
"Yeah, lucky you."
***
the other corvette drivers, the enthusiasts, know the price and have already put their house up for a third mortgage. And walk in with the mileage memorized, card in hand shaking their head as they say:
"Too much money."
to which I always respond, "Yep." and think, "next time buy a civic"

on snow...oops!

I wrote pages about snow and the internet hiccuped and I lost it all. I am writing on word and copy pasting it here from now on. I suggest you do the same cause losing cool writing sucks.

snow

People come from all over the world to ski and snowboard in the mountains of big bear (as a side note there is ONE road with ONE lane and a mandatory snow chain checkpoint at the top of the mountain to accommodate the volume of people, which is to say it does not accommodate people at all and it took me 4 hours to get halfway up the mountain--I didn't want to snowboard I just wanted to go home after a hard day of work-- when I realized I wouldn't be able to go home tonight and went home home back in OJAI, which SUCKED because I had to open the tire store the next morning--Seven hours drive time after a full day of work is not conducive to wanting to go to work the day after) because it is cheaper than Mammoth Mountain.

I have so much to say about this... more to come.