It is often difficult to pull oneself out of the present situation and take a big-picture look. From within the Banana Yellow, the world seems glorious: the northern CA coast streams by, the wind flows through my ample locks, Michael Bolton is cranked. But at one tunnel of cypress trees on Point Reyes, a little voice told me to think about the other people for a second. The innocent road-trippers passing me on perhaps their only chance to cruise Highway 1.
The tunnel of trees provided a perfect testing ground. The comparisons left me slightly ashamed of my own shadow.
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