metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Train tracks and crossroads What is it about a train track? Or a road for that mattter? Or, even better, a crossroads? What is it about them that makes me want to get on it and follow it, to see where it takes me. "Where does this go?", I wonder, and begin walking. Where I lived in Los Angeles was about 10 miles from the civic center. Los Angeles is sprawling and flat (until you get to the foothills). On clear days, and there were quite a few way back then, I could see the tall buildings from my street. They intrigued me. I found their presence so compelling - drawing me to them. I had been there before with my mom. We crossed many train tracks. I have always had excellent spacial knowledge, and figured I could always find my way back. So, one summer morning I got on my bike and rode over to David's house and proposed we go on a trip to see the big buildings. The air was so clear that day, they looked pretty close, actually. "We'll follow the tracks", I said. "I've been there before. I know the way." David was in! And so we got on our bikes, rode the three blocks to the train tracks and took off. There were residential streets that paralleled the tracks, so we rode on them because it was bumpy on the tracks. When the streets dead ended, we had to push our bikes up the grade to the tracks and walk them along until another street began. It seemed as though we had been traveling for hours and hours. I have no idea how long it was, but to a 9 year old it was forever! The buildings still gleamed, but they never seemed to get any closer. We kept slogging on. That is, until David started getting scared. We were in unfamiliar territory - big time. There were less and less houses and more warehouses and more and more train tracks! He kept saying, "I thought you said you knew the way! When are we going to get there? We're lost!" This last exclamation was more like a wail. He was beginning to get panicked. I was not so much panicked and just surprised that it was a lot farther than it looked. At this pace, I didn't think we could make it to LA before dark, let alone get back. He finally refused to go any farther and started to cry. Shit. "OK", I said "Let's turn around and go home." And so we did, but it took a long time to get home and it didn't look familiar for a long, long time. It was an exciting and frightening and adventurous experience for me. I never tried it again, however. It was just too far to ride your bike! I still go down roads I have never been on. I still am not afraid of getting lost. Something inside me knows if I got there, I can get back. I was going to wax philosophic or make analogies about roads and life, but this took a different turn, and it feels right to stop here. 9:42 a.m. - 2006-03-04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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