The Lemonade of Love - Saturday 8/11/2007

Okay, you would probably respect me more if I didn't tell you how we came to drive over this bridge on Big Tujunga Canyon Road on Saturday. But I can't seem to help myself.

After the fabulous Mort Sahl concert on Friday night, I realized that I hadn't brought home the work I needed so I could sleep in after watching Sunday's Perseid meteor showers. Hydra offered to drive us from the West Side to Toluca Lake at 9:30 at night without batting an eye.

As we approached, I realized that I left my keys on my desk in the office. Good grief. I mean, really. To make a long story short, on Saturday OneL graciously agreed to meet me at the office so I could retrieve my files and my keys. (I'd offered to pick them up at her house, but she is just that helpful!)

Hydra drives down with me to get the keys, etc., and we took the long scenic way home, stopping along the way to take photos.

You ask how we made it 20 years? I'll tell you: it's all his fault!

(I can see the movie title now: I Married a Lemonade Machine.)



I saw these steps down to a little tunnel.

"Hey," I called up to Hydra, "I'll bet you could totally tumble right out of this opening!"


I was right! The other side of the little tunnel. This doesn't really show how far you would continue to drop if you fell out this end. It's a couple hundred feet to the creek bed.



Is this not a lovely vestige of old school road building? I love stuff like this. Next time I need to get a shot from the other side of the bridge. One of the nearby tunnels was built in 1941, so I'm guessing this is of a similar age.

Hydra likes to say things like, "Don't count on those pillars too much when you're taking that photo," when I do stuff like hang over the edge to get a shot of the dangling broken chain against the pretty stone wall.



Probably every time we drive past this road house cafe I fantasize about living in some place remote like this (but still only about 50 minutes from L.A.), running a business where people would come to you, so you wouldn't get lonely and start behaving like some character out of a Stephen King novel.

I promise, Hydra, we won't even own an ax.