It Used to Be Called a Highway

What's that saying? "The best laid plans of mice and men." Well in this case, the mice won. My plan to arrive for the 7th race at Santa Anita went awry. Back in Chicago our plane had a leaky gasket, so we had to deplane and replane, and so my excellent adventure became a long slog of a travel day. As Vonnegut would say, "And so it goes."

I landed into an alternate reality, (LAX), where I was motoring in a red Toyota, zipping along the Ventura FREEWAY, (I was doing 70 mph, and cars were passing me by like I was coasting), listening to John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, passing palm trees, the Sierra Madre mountains, Pasadena, Azuza and then finally arriving in sleepy little Arcadia (too late to visit the track!). I checked the schedule and realized that I've missed my chance to try my luck with the horses (No mojo to be found there)this trip. It's kind of like going to Rome and finding out the Pope isn't home.

So, it's business today and tomorrow. I'm in the business of business. Must be busy, and business-like, and see if my misplaced mojo is somewhere in this strange place, so foreign, so familiar.