Beach Boulevard

Posted on August 14, 2005 in The Orange

Beach Boulevard begins in Huntington Beach, passes through Westminister, and ends — I don’t know where. The avenue represents the triumph and failure of California commerce. Every inch of curb fronts on businesses or trailer parks or small condo communities. Usually I only drive an eighth of a mile segment every Saturday when I go to a support group at Huntington Beach Hospital. Today, however, I went to have my hair cut at the house of a friend. Gareth called just as we made the left turn off of Main and onto Beach, so I disenthralled her with a narrative of my travels.

Gareth reported that it was raining in Atlanta. Big bolts of blue lightning struck close to her house. Thunder slammed the ground hard enough to set off car alarms. “We usually don’t get that kind of weather at this time of year,” I remarked. “That’s March weather.

“You’ll be jealous,” I continued. “The skies here are blue with white clouds and just a faint haze.” Earlier it hadn’t been so pretty. As I coasted off Portola Hills, a heavy haze shrouded the sun. The clouds looked as if they’d been painted by an Italian master and then whitewashed twice with a dilute solution.

“I’m passing palm trees now.” My friend didn’t take the bait. We chatted about other things such as the wholesale coffin and urn establishment until I had to hang up for the final turn.

The route festers with badly built storefronts, garages, and fast food outlets. You wonder if there can actually be people living in these towns, if there are neighborhoods where people buy houses or at least rent apartments. Beach Boulevard suggests that California is a gigantic parking lot where people drive continually between stores seeking out the latest bargain in auto parts, erotic gifts, or caskets.

For music, I suggest throwing yourself to the pavement and listening to your scream.