Fans.
The drive from Long Beach to Palm Springs crosses the breadth of the L. A. basin. An 11 a.m. start gets you there at 1 p.m. When you get there, you need to relax.
I've forgotten the mileage but it is probably 120 miles or so of freeway driving. 605 to 91 to 60 to 10. When you live in it, you don't see the vastness of urban sprawl that is L. A. I've been away long enough to see it with new eyes. It is not for me.
To me the signal of the end of L. A. is the wind farms on I-10. Prevailing winds venturi through the mountain pass and countless high tech wind driven turbines generate electricity. I've heard that this is more costly than the power made by burning things but, knowing that figures don't lie but liars can figure, my instincts tell me that these wind farms are a good thing. OK, I don't suppose birds like flying through this mountain pass any more but these whirli-rigs signal my escape from L. A. and that’s a good thing.
On an earlier trip, I passed these thousands of spinning blades then stopped at an outlet mall down the road a bit at the edge of super suburbia. Hats blew away and shoppers squinted eyes and clutched bags.
"Maybe they should turn off those fans.", I said. But my voice was lost in the wind.
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