Wednesday, January 07, 2009
taking pictures cuz they last longer
We passed them on the Golden Gate Bridge, driving north on a brilliant cloudless day. We weren’t going very fast, so they must have been down around 30 mph in the far right lane, well slower than the speed of traffic around them. As we approached the gleaming grin of their unweathered rear bumper, I began to wonder if it was a rental car they were driving - locals just don’t dawdle like that. We pulled further up alongside and I noticed that the left rear window was open, and that through it was thrust the beaming windwhipped face of an ecstatic young woman, her hair flailing wildly in the sunshine, a nice new-looking digital SLR camera clasped with both hands against her eyes, wherewith she clicked away with rapturous abandon at the cables and towers soaring overhead.
We continued to gain on the shiny little car until I came even with the driver’s window. This was also open, but upon a very different vision: The driver was a lank young gent, dark hair minimally styled, scruffy-bearded and slumped down in his seat. One hand was on the steering wheel; the other gripped the edge of his window. His expression was something between a sneer and a pout - a snout, if you will, and he appeared to be in full dudgeon His brow hung down near his eyes, and his eyes - on that beautiful day, on that beautiful bridge - were grimly locked on the grey sameness of the road ahead of him.
Young love, I thought; young tourists. We left them in our figurative dust.
