The Wednesday evening commute

Tonight was my seventh trip to Chula Vista for a poetry workshop with Steve Kowit, who, it turns out, is a brilliant and inspiring teacher, and worth the two-hour round trip every Wednesday. Today, as I sat on the 805 approaching my exit to Southwestern Junior College, I saw an amazing sight. Truly amazing. To describe it, let me just say this:

See what I mean? I am almost positive I know what this laden truck was doing on the southbound 805: It was heading for Mexico. I know this because, at a garage sale to raise money for my nephew last year, a Mexican man came at the end of the day and bought all the furniture that was left over--furnishings, he explained, for a home across the border. Another woman bought bags and bags of clothes for the same purpose.

Still, this truck was stacked frighteningly high--higher, thought I, than most semi rigs that you see on the interstate. I could not stop looking at it, and managed to snap a few photos.

And that was all in the first half of the commute. When I reached Starbucks, for my pre-class kick, I was pleasantly rewarded with free coffee (it was brewing for four minutes before they handed me a cup), vouchers for two free songs ('Bucks is giving out a free song a day through iTunes--all you gotta do is ask for one), and a free day-old copy of the New York Times. Coffee, music, a paper, and not a dime spent. Not bad.

The drive home is typically relaxing. I found from the very first night drive back to Fallbrook that the trip affords me the opportunity to think, mull over what was discussed in class, and listen to music on my iPod. (I'm pretty sure activities such as listening to music via headphones and, say, taking pictures are illegal while driving. Don't tell.)

So that's my weekly Wednesday routine after I get off work in Escondido. Although, it's not every week that I see three houses' worth of used furniture commuting next to me toward Mexico. That, it seems, is a rare privilege.