For such a self-avowed pedestrian as me, having to experience life and a city through a car all the time is a challenge. You don’t see beauty as readily, because you’re trying not to get killed by all the morons driving at 70 mph with a death wish. That, and everything that is beautiful to you as a pedestrian, a wild coyote (!), a family on their bikes, a person dancing along to their iPod are obstacles and annoyances that you have to take into account while you drive, just one more thing you have to try not to hit.
Which is why it took me by surprise tonight, to experience such a beautiful moment.
I’d just come from a late dinner with Cosmopolitan-Ferret and her friend, and was getting off the exit from the 134, on Del Mar, at around 10 PM. Bob Dylan’s “Lay, Lady, Lay” blasting on the stereo, self-contained in my closed-windowed car, when I slowed down for the red light, which turned to green. A tall black man, was standing on the corner of the street, to my right, facing me, a white bucket of soapy water at his feet, and holding his squeegy like it was a torch. He raised it slowly and extended it towards me like a gift, pivoting on his feet, as I drove by, mesmerized by how peaceful and kind he looked. Slowly, as slowly as possible, I passed him, turning my head until it was no longer safe, though the streets were deserted.
Bob kept playing, perfectly, and I drove home very slowly, very happy.