Around the world in 888 days - Leaving Los Angeles

My brother posted this as a note on facebook, and since he is not yet blogging (even though I harrass him every time we talk) I am copying it here. Hey, saves me having to write a post. Or think of one, for that matter.


It had been ten thousand miles, eleven weeks and one day since I had first had Brunhilda (his bike) on the road. South Carolina seemed worlds away from the Southern California I had just left that evening.
The sun was setting on the Hollywood Hills, as I was riding to the 101 to catch its north flowing traffic. I passed the boulevards Santa Monica, and Sunset. Narrow streets fronted by buildings of a far earlier generation, streets active with the to and fro of pedestrians. I thought with great favour upon my week in LA. The storied and legendary Los Angeles. La La Land. It is, for certain, home to many an angel, truly beautiful people who call it, and its pockets of cool community home.
I followed Cahuenga to its end, as it ingeniously snaked and turned to meet the 101. A week of blue skies I had had and the last of the sun tinged the edges of sky pink. I took in a big breath, again my love for Los Angeles affirmed. Descending to meet the traffic, to the right trees running along the curb and from it rose a plume of dust as a man with dirty matted hair kicked at the earth and released words, unintelligible, screaming first in a sharp falsetto than a deep baritone. I caught his eye as he turned to look at the line of traffic descending on the ramp - his young face yet to be ravaged by the trials of poverty and addiction. Two seconds was my window onto his world. With it he would be unto the end. A moment later I was laying off the throttle to join the long line of bright red lights braking themselves forward, six lanes strong, north on the Hollywood Freeway. The sky grew darker, a few exits more and the pace picked up, a Mercedes to my left, a long white stretch limo passes me to the right and I was leaving Los Angeles.