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Magic Bus

Used to be that psychedelic magic buses drove the Coast Highway.  They’ve long disappeared now.   A few are still around, parked long ago under the tree canopy of the redwood and oak forests.  Aging and decaying.  Now dusty, dirty, and grey, their faded swirls of paint across the nose, sides, and top.

I’ve seen one between Briceland and Thorn Junction on the road out to Shelter Cove.  Another was up in La Honda, like an extinct species, for La Honda used to house many of these buses.

But this bus before me, in the photo above, was all green.  A green, mid-size bus.  A driver, a passenger.  Lots of bikes on back.

It’d be nice to have a bus this size, an electric bus one of several, providing bus service all-along the California coast.

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This post could have been entitled, “A Departure From The Road,” or “Before The Road There Were Trains,” but the former seems cliché and the latter’s too wordy.

The quote from Ray Navis’ article in the Santa Ynez Valley Journal seems a most fitting title for this post, The further south we headed, the more surfers appeared.

Although, that is not what this post is about: Surfing. (I just really like that sentence as a stand-alone offer. As if surfing, or surfers rather, were a species to be located within a certain latitude. A sighting likened to the excitement one experiences to view penguins in Chile or giraffes in Kenya.)

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Days until manuscript completion

Final DraftNovember 30th, 2013
Dot i's and cross t's.